My Happily Ever After
by Annamia
Summary: Adarius doesn't live in a fairy tale. But, when one factors in an evil stepmother, a beautiful girl, and a rather short best friend... well, Happily Ever After might be in his future after all...
1. New kids in town

_Author's note: This is almost stretching the boundraries of fanfiction, unfortunately. Still, it's kind of a fairy tale, at least, I'm hopeing it will me, and so I'm going to put it up here and get readers. Besides, since it's here, it might encourage me to keep it within the boundries of fanfic.  
The story of Snow White does not belong to me, and neither does the name Adarius Rathburn. (I stole it from a kid at my brother's Honor Roll. If he is reading this, please note that no disrespect is intended, it's just a really really cool name.)_

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**My Happily Ever After  
****Part 1: New kids in town**

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far far away, there lived a beautiful girl. This girl's mother had dies when she was only a tiny baby, and her father had married another woman, one who was vain and selfish. The stepmother was jealous of the girl's beauty, and she only became more jealous as the girl grew older. Soon, the stepmother couldn't bear to look upon the girl any longer, and she told her most trusted guard to take the girl into the forest and kill her. The advisor couldn't bear to kill the girl, and so he abandoned her to her fate in the forest and went back to her stepmother to say the girl was dead. The girl wandered through the forest until she found a house. It was empty, and, because she was tired, she went inside and fell asleep. When she woke up, she found herself surrounded by seven dwarves, entranced by her beauty. She quickly became their friend, and they allowed her to live in their house with them. But one day, when she was alone in the house, her stepmother came around disguised as an old crone. She gave the girl a poisoned apple, and the girl fell asleep so deeply she could have been dead. When the dwarves returned, they found her lying asleep on the floor. Thinking she was dead, they built her a coffin of glass and laid her in the forest for all to see. Soon, a handsome prince rode up, and, seeing the beautiful girl lying in the coffin, he fell deeply in love with her. He lifted the lid off the coffin and bent down to kiss her. As his lips touched hers, her eyes opened and she feel in love with him. He carried her back to his kingdom, and they were married and lived happily ever after. The end.

At least, that's how it's _supposed_ to happen. Unfortunately, it doesn't. Trust me. I should know. My name is Adarius Rathburn, and I am not your average Snow White. To begin with, I'm a boy, which causes a few problems right off the bat. Not to mention that I'm an ultra-tan redhead. That about wraps it up for Snow White, doesn't it? Actually, we de have a few things in common. Both of us live with stepmothers who hate us, and both of us are considered eerily beautiful. (Yes, someone actually did say that to me, believe it or not.) Apart from that, though, I am no more a fairy tale princess than you are.

I live in Denver, which, as I'm sure all who live here will agree, isn't exactly a paradise for witches and old stories. (Though we _were_ voted into the top ten most lustful cities in America recently. Go figure.) Not only do I live in Denver, I live just off Broadway in what is possibly the most boring suburb in the world. Hardly an idea setting for a fairy tale, right? Yet, somehow, in the midst of all thus crushing banality, I managed to find what stories might call my happily ever after. The way it happened was like this.

"Hey Rathburn!" I turned to see my friend Claire running towards me. Most of my friends are girls: I tend to make guys feel insecure.

I grinned at her. "What's up Minnie?" Claire is all of 4 feet 9 inches tall, and, when you see her with the rest of us, you'd think she was an Elementary Schooler in disguise. She more than makes up for her size in energy, though. She's like a little kid in that respect too, come to think of it.

"Kiki's sick today," she announced. "And I have to bring her her homework."

I grinned. "Good luck. Do you have to make sure she _does_ it?" Kiki, the oldest of our group, firmly maintains that homework of any kind is against her religion, and she adamantly refuses to do it. Her grades, oddly enough, aren't anything to write home about either. Funny how that works, isn't it?

She shook her head. "Nope. I'm just the messenger."

"Good. I like you better alive."

We made our way towards the front door of our high school, keeping a sharp eye out for the rest of our gang. I spotted Bubble, blond and as empty-headed as her nickname suggests, quickly enough, and reached out to steer her towards her locker, which happens to be right by mine. It was my turn to keep her out of trouble this year, and we'd gotten our schedules fixed accordingly. The councilors know Bubble, after all, and Minnie is the honor student, not me.

We'd almost reached the end of the math hallway when Joe joined us. Joe is only a freshman, but she is without a doubt the most amazing lesbian I have ever met and, trust me, I have met lots. I go to my sister's parties, after all. Minnie turned into the business hall then, while Bubble, Joe, and I opened our respective lockers and grabbed our things for first period: math. Personally, I think having math first thing in the morning should be declared unconstitutional – isn't there something in the Bill of Rights outlawing cruel and unusual punishment? – but I wasn't consulted about this. At least Joe, who likes and is good at math, is in our class, so she can give me answers. I don't even have to bribe her to do it. Well, not much, anyway.

We somehow managed to survive both math and English, which Joe doesn't have with us, and then it was, finally, time for lunch. Classes of ninety minutes long are all very well, but it isn't much fun when you have your two least favorite classes one right after the other.

Bubble and I sat down at our table, waiting for Minnie and Joe to join us. We gossiped as we waited, or, rather, Bubble gossiped and I waited. How Bubble can manage to overhear and commit to memory every detail of every cheerleader's love life when she has to be reminded of her locker combination every morning is beyond me, but she somehow manages it. She was in the middle of recounting in great detail the complexities of Mandy's Johnson's relationship with her current boyfriend when Minnie suddenly appeared in front of me. I jumped, almost upsetting my milk carton. "Don't _do_ that to me!" I exclaimed, glowering at her.

She grinned. "Being a shrimp has its benefits," she crowed, setting her tray down on the table and sliding into her seat next to Bubble.

"Yeah, like giving me a heart attack," I grumbled. The grin only widened.

"So, what's going on in Prep land?" she asked, turning to look at Bubble. Bubble launched into a description of Mandy Johnson's boyfriend while I watched for Joe. I saw her before she saw me, and I waved her over. She dropped down next to Bubble, grinning from ear to ear.

"What's up?" I asked, raising my eyebrows at her.

"There's a new chick in my business class," she explained. "And she's _hot_!"

I laughed. "Good luck. Who is she?"

"Her name's Adele White," Joe answered. "Apparently she's got a twin brother named Eric, but he wasn't in the class."

Bubble broke off her monologue, looking intrigued. "You think he's as hot as she is?"

Joe shrugged. "I didn't see him," she reminded Bubble. "But probably."

Bubble's eyes turned speculative, and I knew instantly that she was plotting to get him for herself. Silently, I wished her luck.

Minnie clearly saw the same thing, and she grinned. "Maybe he'll be in one of your classes." She glanced at me. "Speaking of which, you have art next, right?" I nodded. "Can you get the homework? Kiki's in the class with you, and I don't want to talk to Mr. Clark."

I rolled my eyes. "Why not? He's cool!"

She shuddered. "He's _creepy_," she insisted. "He's got a unibrow and it's not the same color as his hair, and it's _scary_!"

I snorted. "You're just shallow," I told her. "He's a good teacher."

She sighed. "Just get me the homework, okay?"

"It would serve you right if I made you do it yourself."

"But you won't, will you?"

"What'll you give me?"

She considered. "I'll write your English essay," she offered.

"Deal," I answered promptly. "It's about time I got a decent grade on one of those."

Joe snorted. "If you have to depend on Minnie to get good grades, then you're in sad shape."

I shrugged. "I do pictures, not words," I reminded her.

She grinned. "We can tell." The bell rang then, and three of us jumped up. Bubble leaned back in her seat, watching us with smug superiority. _She_ is off after lunch: she hates art, and I refuse to give it up.

"Try not to spend all period mooning over a boy you've never met," I advised, scooping my books up and slinging my backpack over my shoulder.

She laughed, a breathy, girlish laugh that didn't reassure me in the slightest. Minnie rolled her eyes. "You know she will," she told me, grinning at Bubble. "That's just how she is."

I grimaced. "Well, at least tell someone _else_ about it this time. I've had to listen to the last four."

"Poor baby," Joe said. "I'm sure someone will rescue you."

"They'd better," I agreed. The bell rang again, telling us that all gossip time had ended. The three of us who had classes sprinted off in three different directions.

I skidded to a stop inside Mr. Clark's classroom moments before the last bell finished ringing. He looked hard at me, but I wasn't quite late, so he couldn't technically yell at me. He glared anyway, and I scurried to my seta and pulled out my sketchbook. The bell stopped ringing, and Mr. Clark walked up to the chalkboard. "We have a new student in the class today," he announced. He nodded at a boy standing in the corner, who I hadn't noticed before. "Eric White moved here from New York City, and I'm sure he will be glad to tell you about his life there." Eric looked around, smiling pleasantly. Looking at him, I could see that he wouldn't get many guy friends either. And they said _I_ made them feel insecure! This dude was prettier than me any day. No wonder Bubble was excited.

My friend Tina, one of those friends you only talk to in one class and never see again when the class is over, poked me. "Looks like you've got some competition," she muttered, watching Eric hungrily.

I shrugged, examining him closely. I knew where Mr. Clark would put him: there was only one empty seat in the room, and it was next to me. Sure enough, Mr. Clark directed him to the empty seat. "Adarius will tell you what we are currently working on." He went back to the front of the room, leaving me to explain in an undertone what we were doing: drawing gemstones. I caught Eric watching me as I explained the project, and I recognized the look in his luminescent blue eyes: it was one I'd often caught Joe using on Bubble. His eyes flicked up and down my torso, clearly checking me out. I hid a grin. I had no competition after all.

The class went by far too quickly. What is it about time that it always goes fastest when you're having fun? I swear, it's all some kind of right-wing conspiracy to make us all hate school. After all, why else make sure we spend as much time as possible in the classes we hate?

Eric didn't talk much, though I could feel his eyes on me for most of the class period. I struggled very hard to not to tell him I wasn't interested, trusting that he would figure it out eventually. He hadn't by the end of the period, and I was having a hard time not telling him to watch someone else's ass. There _are_ other guys in the school, and some of them even swing his way. Why did he have to watch _me_?

He wasn't in our chem. class, thankfully, and as I joined Bubble outside the classroom, I dismissed him from my mind. He would get the message eventually. Bubble was full of energy and she chatted without stopping as we took our seats. I didn't have the heart to tell her that the guy she was obsessed with would never consider her. After all, she too would eventually get the message. I just hoped that she would find another shoulder to cry on when it finally happened. I might be her designated caretaker, but I'm still a guy and I'm still straight, and hearing about her romance issues still makes me uncomfortable. Ironically, I would be the most qualified to hear about Joe's issues, but she's currently single and planning on staying that way. Apparently her last relationship ended badly, and she's not ready to dive into another one. Though, considering how she'd looked coming out of business, she might just be about to change that.

Chem. passed quickly enough, for once, and we'd actually finished our experiment without blowing anything up by the time the bell rang. Leaving me to clean the material up, Bubble darted away to gather her stuff. I grimaced, but quickly put away the Bunsen burner and blue power we'd been burning. I wouldn't trust Bubble with blue powder anyway. Knowing her, she'd think it was makeup and try to put on her eyelids, and who _knows_ what would happen then. It was better just to do it myself.

She deigned to wait for me, at least, and I walked with her to the front hall, where we lounged against the wall to wait for Joe and Minnie. When they finally came, we walked out together into the bright sunlight.

"What do you want to do today?" I asked, squinting into the glare.

Minnie shrugged. "I've got to give Kiki her homework," she said. "Then I'm free."

"I can do anything," Joe volunteered.

We all looked at Bubble. She shook her head. "Grounded."

"Why?" Minnie demanded.

"Mom caught me spying on the neighbors again," she explained. I made a face. Bubble is convinced her neighbors are actually evil foreign spies who are out to get her and take her to an enemy country. In reality, said neighbors are a very nice elderly couple who did their best to be friends with her. After the third time she ran away screaming, they stopped, and when they discovered her watching them through her binoculars, they called her mom to complain. Since then, Bubble has been under strict orders not to bother them in any way, orders which she apparently disobeyed.

"Why?" I demanded, propping my hands on my hips.

"Because they're out to get me!" she said, her voice leaving no room for doubt. "I know they are!"

"And how do you know that?" Minnie demanded, fighting the giggles as hard as she could.

"They were _talking_ about me!" she assured us, her voice earnest. "I _heard _them!"

"Do they even know your name?" Joe wanted to know.

She shook her head. "No, but they were talking about the 'girl next door,' and the neighbors on the other side don't have any kids. It _must_ have been me!"

I rolled my eyes. "Maybe they were just wishing you'd stop spying on them."

She shook her head. "No! I know what they want!"

"Which is?"

"_Me_, of course. Why else would they move in next to me?"

Joe snickered. "Let's think logically about this, shall we?" she asked. "Just why would they want you?"

Bubble shrugged helplessly. "I don't know," she said. "But I know they want me!"

Minnie glanced at her watch. "Not that this isn't interesting or anything, but I've gotta skiddadle if I want to get to Kiki's. Where will I meet you?"

"We could go to my house," I suggested. "Marge isn't home until six tonight."

Minnie nodded. "Got it. If Kiki isn't sick anymore, I'll bring her too."

"'Kay," I said, watching as she darted away, weaving expertly through the crowd of taller students.

"I should go too," Bubble said, looking at her own watch. It had Tinkerbell on it. She walked off in the other direction, leaving Joe and I standing on the sidewalk looking after her.

"Shall we?" she asked, nodding towards my house. I shrugged, and we started walking. "So, you met the new chick yet?" she asked as we walked.

I shook my head. "No. I met her brother, though." I grimaced and she raised an eyebrow. "He's a bonafide gay," I informed her. "And Mr. Clark put him next to me."

She uttered a noise somewhere between a giggle and a snort. "Poor you. Did he try anything?"

I shook my head. "Not yet. He just looked. A lot."

She did laugh then, and I scowled at her. "It is Not funny," I informed her hotly. "I don't want to be checked out by guys!"

She looked at me oddly, sobering slightly. "I didn't think you had any particular problem with it," she commented.

"I don't," I assured her. "Just so long as they leave me alone. I like girls. Period. End of story."

"You never know unless you try," she told me.

"Trust me on this one, all right?" I asked, a slightly pained note in my voice. "I'm not gay."

She shrugged. "If you say so. That's no reason to be rude to him, though."

"I wasn't," I objected, stepping over a puddle on the sidewalk. "But I'm not going to encourage him either."

"No, that would be cruel," she agreed. "Just smile at him and tell him you're not interested. And keep him away from Bubble."

I winced. I'd forgotten about that complication. "Good idea. That _would_ be cruel."

She nodded. "Bubble might be a ditz, but she knows how to fight for a guy."

"Tell me about it," I muttered, remembering all of her schemes last year to steal the football players from the pom squad. Needless to say, they had all failed dismally, and Jason Par was still firmly joined at the hip with Crissy Samson. Frankly, I don't know what she saw in him, but, then, as I'd just got through explaining, I am 100 guaranteed straight white guy, so I know nothing about the aesthetic value of various football players.

"Hey, here's a thought. You should encourage your friend to join the GSA. We could use some guys."

I winced. "He's not my friend," I told her.

"What, you're not going to be his friend because he thinks you have a hot ass? Even _I _know you have a hot ass, and I don't swing your way."

"I don't care what he thinks of my ass," I assured her. "It's what he chooses to do afterwards that bothers me. I'm not going to let him think I might even possibly be interested."

"You don't _have_ to do it that way, you know," she pointed out. "After all, there _are_ ways to be friends with people without leading them on."

"Yeah, but not if they already like you."

"You don't even know if he really likes you. You've been checked out by guys before."

"Not like this. Trust me on this one Joe. He's head over heels, and I have no intention of allowing that to go any farther."

She snorted. "Since when are you such an expert on relationships, anyway?"

"Since I've become the object of a hopeless crush."

She rolled her eyes. "You are being melodramatic," she informed me. "Ten to one he was just enjoying the view."

"You're on," I told her. "What are you betting?"

She considered this for a moment. "I'll do your math homework for a week."

"Two."

"Deal."

We shook on it, and the conversation lagged for a moment. As usual, we were both convinced we'd made the winning bet. I was confident in my assessment: I've seen girls mooning over me before, and the look in Eric's eyes was exactly the same.

The conversation shifted to math class and, by the time we finally reached my house, I almost understood what we were doing. Not enough to do it by myself, by any means, but enough to almost figure out what I was doing wrong. It was an improvement over class, at least.

I found Minnie and Kiki waiting for us at the door. Minnie was scowling at Kiki, who was grinning, a bored expression on her face. Minnie turned when she heard us, her scowl not lightening perceptively. "It's about time," she grumbled. "Do you have any idea how long we've been waiting here?"

"Two minutes," Kiki added. "Two whole minutes. 120 seconds. Who knows what interesting things could be going on in the world that we missed because we were standing in front of your door waiting for you?"

I rolled my eyes as I moved to unlock the door. "You do realize that the back door is always open, don't you?"

Minnie grimaced. "And be arrested for breaking and entering? I don't _think_ so."

"It's not breaking and entering if you're my friend," I reminded her. "And my dad knows you."

"I am a good person, and good people don't go sneaking into their friends' houses when their friends are out," she insisted, stepping past me into the house.

I snorted. "Sure you are," I agreed, following Kiki and Joe into the living room. "Dad, I'm home!" I hollered, listening for the response. It came in the form of a loud thump followed by a huge grunt. I winced. "He's moving furniture in the basement again," I muttered. "Drinks and snacks are in the kitchen. You can help yourselves. I'll be right there." I didn't wait for them to do as I suggested, only moved to the back door and down the stairs into the basement. I pounded down the stairs, only to be confronted by a stack of almost empty boxes. I shoved them to the side, maneuvering my away around them until I could see my dad clearly. He was working on lifting an armchair, and failing dismally.

Without waiting for prompting, I grabbed the other side of the chair, and together we managed to drag it over to the opposite corner. When we'd unceremoniously let it drop, I stood up, wiping my hands on the chair. "I've got a couple friends over," I informed him. "They'll leave before Marge gets home."

His eyes narrowed. "How many is a couple?" he demanded suspiciously.

"Just three," I assured him.

"Which ones?"

"Minnie, Joe, and Kiki," I told him without thinking.

"Who?"

I grimaced. It's so easy to forget that not everyone knows us only by our nicknames. "Claire, Sarah, and Michiko."

"Oh. Well, get them out before Marge comes home. You know she doesn't like you having friends over." 'Doesn't like' is a bit of an understatement, actually. The proper term would be 'throws a hissy fit whenever she realizes.' As I've said, Marge doesn't like me very much. Sometimes, I think she's jealous. After all, I _am_ the one who gets my ass checked out on a regular basis, even if half the time it's by other guys. Dad began to eye the sofa speculatively, and I fled, not wanting to be pressed once more into service.

Back upstairs, I stopped by the kitchen to grab a can of Coke before joining my friends in my room. Minnie was lounging on my bed, glancing through my CDs, while Kiki and Joe were engaged in an extensive discussion about the pros and cons of where to go for the first date. As far as I could tell, Kiki favored going out to a restaurant and eating something fancy, while Joe was all for the casual movies and pizza approach. Personally, I think the best place to go on a first date is her house, so that you can meet her father right off the bat and assure him that you are not some kind of sex fiend who cares about nothing but taking her virginity at the first chance you get, but that option apparently didn't make either of their lists.

Minnie looked up as I entered, brandishing a CD in my face. "Where did you get this and can I steal it?" she demanded.

I grabbed it out of her hand and examined it. It was one of my favorites. "I bought it at Virgin, and no, you can't."

"Will you at least burn me a copy?"

"Can't you just buy your own?"

She grimaced. "I'm broke," she informed me.

"Why? _You're_ the one who just turned sixteen. Surely you could get a job if you need money."

"I could," she agreed. "Or I could just get my CDs from you and my books from the internet. It's easier."

"It is," I admitted. "When do you want it by?"

She shrugged. "Whenever you can get it done. I don't really care."

"Good. Don't expect it before the end of the week."

She raised her eyebrows. "Busy schedule?"

I shook my head. "Nope. Stepmother."

"Oh, right. She doesn't want you burning CDs, does she?"

"Among other things," I said dryly.

She grimaced. "How can you put up with her?" she demanded.

"I can't, most of the time. Believe me, I'm counting the days until I turn eighteen."

She laughed. "And how many is that?"

"1044 days," I answered promptly. "Counting today."

Joe's eyes widened. "Wow," she said. "You really _are_ counting, aren't you?"

I nodded.

Kiki decided then that we weren't paying nearly enough attention to her, and she leaned forward. "So, what's this I hear about new victims?"

I grimaced. "Stop calling us that, if you please."

"Well, that's what you are," she insisted. "You're all victims of a cruel and oppressive system which cares nothing for you and whose only goal is to work you into such a state of exhaustion that you can do nothing else."

"And I suppose you are enlightened and have escaped from said cruelty?" Minnie demanded, trading eye rolls with me.

"Of course I have," Kiki said. "Why do you think I'm the only one of you who isn't sleep deprived?"

"And why are you the only one of us who systematically fails every class?" Minnie shot back.

"Oh, grades," Kiki scoffed. "They are nothing but tools to make us doubt ourselves and lower our self esteem."

Joe snorted. "Yeah. They're also what my parents use when deciding whether or not to ground me."

Kiki brushed that aside, leaning around Joe to look at me. "So, spill Rathburn. What's this about the new guy being yellow?"

Joe chucked a pillow in her direction, which I intercepted neatly. "Don't throw the furniture around," I said.

Joe rolled her eyes, but took it from me and put it back on my bed.

"Well?" Kiki demanded, not put off by Joe's reaction.

I sighed. "What do you want me to say? Yes, he is indeed gay, and no, I'm not interested."

Kiki rolled her eyes. "And just how do you know? Have you ever _tried_ kissing a guy?"

"How different is it from kissing a girl?"

"Very," Kiki and Joe said instantly. Minnie stared at Joe in astonishment.

"_You've_ kissed a _guy_?" she demanded.

Joe shrugged. "Sure. How else do you think I knew I didn't like it?"

Kiki grinned. I turned to Joe. "So, if you're so experiences, tell me how it's different from kissing a girl?"

Joe considered for a moment. Finally, she said, "When you're kissing a guy, it's harsher. It's like a competition, where both of you are doing your best to kill the other one's mouth with yours. But when you kiss a girl, it's more equal. It's obvious that you respect each other, and there's no fighting."

Kiki shook her head, amused. "No, you've got it all wrong," she said. "When you kiss a guy, it's your chance to prove yourself. It's a power struggle, and if you win, he'll respect you."

"And if you lose?" Minnie asked, fascinated. Minnie has no hormones to speak of, unlike the rest of us, and, to my knowledge, she hasn't kissed _anybody_, guy or girl.

Kiki shrugged. "If you lose, then you're no more than a sex toy."

"That's harsh," I objected. "Not all guys only think about sex, you know."

"No. The ones that don't are gay," Kiki said instantly. I debated whether or not to throw a pillow at her myself, but decided that it wasn't worth the trouble I would get in. I contented myself with telling her to shut up. She only grinned at me.

"What are you going to do about the new kid?" Minnie asked, clearly changing the subject. She is by far the most modest of all of us, and the talk of sex had left her bright red and looking at the floor. Kiki, not modest by even the loosest of standards, snickered.

I shrugged. "Not much I can do," I pointed out. "He'll get over it eventually."

"Will he?" Joe asked skeptically. "You never know. He might think it's the forever kind of crush."

I winced. "I hope not. That would mean I'd be the one to break his heart. I'd rather not have that on my conscience."

"Adarius Rathburn, heartbreaker, that's you," Minnie said, grinning.

I glowered at her. "It's not a title I'm eager to inherit. Maybe I'll get lucky and he'll find someone else."

"I doubt it," Joe muttered.

"Are you telling me gay guys don't fall in and out of love as fast as straight ones?" I demanded.

She shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I'm not a gay guy, after all. But I do know that they're a hell of a lot carefuller about who they show interest in. They have to be. Most guys would run away kicking and screaming if they thought they were being checked out by another guy."

"Or they'd break his ass," Kiki said. I scowled at her.

"What on Earth have guys done to you?" I demanded. "You seem to have declared war on our entire gender."

"I'm dating a guy, aren't I?" she shot back. "And I'm just painting people the way they really are."

"You're still with Devon?" Joe asked her, leaning back to rest her elbows against my desk.

Kiki nodded. "Yup. Two months as of next Monday."

"Congrats," I said. "What's this, a new record?"

She grinned. "I like him. He's a good kisser, once I showed him I could hold my own."

I rolled my eyes. "Is that your only criteria for choosing guys?"

"Of course not! But you have to admit, it's important."

Joe snorted. Kiki turned to glare at her. "Oh, come on honey. Don't tell me you don't look for chicks who can kiss."

"I look for girls I can connect with," Joe said loftily. "Is it _my_ fault that they end up being good kissers?"

Minnie and I laughed. Kiki returned Joe's snort.

I took a drink of my Coke, glancing at my clock. 4:30. We still had time. "What are you guys doing this weekend?" I asked.

Minnie wrinkled her nose. "Nothing. I've been informed that my weekend will be spent doing homework and cleaning my room."

"Your Dad's out of town again, isn't he?" I asked. Minnie's dad is a flight attendant, and he spends rather a lot of time traveling. She nodded.

"Yup. Until the end of the week at least." She grimaced. "Mom's going insane. She claims she wasn't cut out to be a single mother."

"Why'd she marry a flight attendant, then?" Joe demanded.

Minnie shrugged. "Beats me. Maybe he promised not to leave so much."

"Maybe they just fell in love," I suggested.

Minnie burst out laughing. "Somehow, I doubt my mother's the type to forget everything for love, even in college."

"True," I agreed, remembering the times I'd met Minnie's mom.

Joe looked up at my clock, and her eyes widened. "I've gotta go. My mom'll skin me if I'm late again."

She stood, grabbing the backpack she'd dropped at the door and walking out. I didn't bother walking her to the door: she's been here enough that she knows where it is.

Kiki took a bite of an apple she'd gotten from somewhere, then tossed it up in the air and caught it with one hand, bite side up. "How long until graduation?"

"Too long," Minnie answered automatically. "Incidentally, if you want me to write your college entrance essays for you, you'll have to get cracking."

I raised my eyebrows. "You're planning on going to college?" I demanded. "Somehow, I doubt they'll let you in."

Kiki shrugged. "My scintillating personality will make up for my lack of grades," she said airily.

"Really? They don't get to meet you unless you have good grades, you know."

"If they're only interested in my grades, I'm not interested in going there."

"Good luck," Minnie said dryly. "Come to me if you change your mind."

"Just what are Bubble and I going to do without you to write our essays for us?" I asked her, propping my hands on my hips. "Both of us are hopeless."

She snickered. "You've got that right," she muttered. "Honestly, you might be educated in person, but from your essays, you'd think you were seven years old."

"Is it _my_ fault that I can't do it?" I demanded. "It wasn't _my_ choice, now was it?"

"True," she agreed. "Tell you what, send me the questions, send me cash, and I'll send you an essay."

"Cash?! You're not making Kiki pay cash!"

"Kiki and I have a different arrangement."

"Really? What is it?"

She grinned. "It's a secret," she told me. Kiki laughed. I turned to her, my eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Does it have anything to do with illegal substances?"

Her eyes widened in mock-horror. "_Me_? Sell something _illegal_? Just what kind of person do you think I _am_, anyway?" Her voice was far too full of fake innocence to make me comfortable. What is and isn't illegal is another thing that Kiki tends to ignore most of the time. She only follows the law when it suits her.

"More to the point," Minnie interrupted. "What kind of person do you think _I_ am, hmm? Do I look like the kind of person who would indulge in illegal substances?"

"No," I admitted. "You're far too much of a goody-goody to do that."

"There you go."

"Then what is it?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Still not telling."

"You do realize that that makes me think only the worst, don't you?"

She shrugged. "That's not my problem."

Before I could answer, the phone rang shrilly. I dashed out of the room and down the stairs, grabbing it just before it could finish its last ring. "Hello?" I gasped, fighting to catch my breath. My stepmother's harsh voice barked through the receiver at me.

"Oh, it's you."

I fought the anger that instinctively filled me at the sound of her voice. "What do you want, Marge?"

"Tell your father that I'll be home early."

My stomach dropped. "How early?"

"In ten minutes." Oh, _shit_!

"Okay."

The line went dead, and I sprinted back up to my room. "Sorry guys, she's coming home early."

Minnie grimaced. "When?"

"Really soon."

They both stood. They knew what it meant when I said really soon. Minnie grinned sympathetically at me. "See you tomorrow."

"See you," I said glumly. Assuming I survived until then, of course.

"Cuss her out good for me, 'kay?" Kiki asked, grinning.

I shuddered in response to the very idea of cussing Marge out. "Sorry, no can do. I'd rather survive to get to college, thanks all the same."

She shrugged. "If you say so. I still think she deserves it."

"It's not a question of whether she deserves it or not, it's whether I'll survive the experience."

Minnie sighed and grabbed Kiki's sleeve, which was all she could reach. I had to grin, watching Minnie tow the older girl out the door. Kiki was 5'7, and, next to Minnie, she looked like some kind of giant. Of course, Minnie looked slightly like a dwarf, and that only added to the amusement. They pounded down the stairs and out the door, vanishing around the corner moments before Marge's car zoomed around the opposite end of the street. I scanned my room, picking up the trash they'd left and stuffing it into my trashcan. Everything looked fine. I hoped.

The door crashed open and I winced, already sensing that she was in a bad mood. It's not hard to put Marge into a bad mood, and, most of the time, it's because of me. I tend to being out the worst in her, for some reason. Actually, I know the reason quite well: I'm prettier than she is, and she doesn't like it. I don't blame her for it either. After all, when your fifteen year old stepson is prettier than you are, you know you have some serious issues. The thing is, though, that Marge _is_ really pretty. She's not model gorgeous or anything, but she could still win some small town beauty contests. She refuses to see that, though, and she takes her temper out on me.

Don't get me wrong, it's not like she hits me. That's child abuse, and Dad's technically a cop. He doesn't actually do much of anything, but he's got the badge and the gun, so that makes him technically part of the police force, and he wouldn't hesitate to turn her in if she started beating me. So she only yells at me and blames me for all the little things that go wrong. Nothing extreme, just enough to make it _quite_ clear that she doesn't like me.

Sure enough, I heard her pounding up the stairs to my room. Quickly, I darted in and grabbed the first textbook that came to my hand, flopped down onto my bed, and tried to look like I'd been studying. Just my luck, I'd landed on the math book, which is the one subject I really should spend more time studying.

She burst through my door, glowering. "Why is the dishwasher full?" she demanded, her voice icy.

Oops, I'd forgotten about that. I held up my math book. "Homework."

"It's 5 o'clock, Adarius," she informed me. "If you have that much homework, maybe you should drop some classes."

Great, now she thought I was stupid as well as useless. Nothing like a little love, is there?

"I don't need to drop my classes, Marge. I just have a lot of homework tonight."

"Really? You weren't just staying out with your little friends?"

She couldn't know… could she? I shook my head.

"And whose is that?" She nodded at an empty Coke can. Damn, I must have missed that one.

"Mine."

"Why were you drinking soda at this time of day?"

I sighed, closing my book and sitting up. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. "Look, I'm sorry about the dishwasher, all right? It won't happen again."

"No, it won't," she agreed.

I frowned. What was she talking about?

"Because next time you forget, you are out of this house."

My mouth dropped open. She couldn't be saying what I thought she was saying… could she?

She was. "This is your last warning. I'm sure your _real_ mother would be glad to have you." She emphasized the word real, making me remember that she'd overheard me telling Dad that I didn't have to listen to her because she wasn't my real mom. I'd come to regret that.

"Probably not." Mom's on welfare right now, juggling a recurring drug addiction and what might possibly be cancer. She has no time for anyone but herself, and she certainly can't be expected to take me in.

"She's your mother. She has a duty to look after you."

"So does Dad," I muttered.

She glowered. "Your father does not have time to be constantly watching you. You should be old enough by now to be able to balance your own responsibilities."

I was suddenly tired of this conversation, tired of her, tired of just being in this _house_. I stood. "I'm going out," I announced. "I'll empty the dishwasher and be home before dark."

"And the homework?" she demanded.

"It's not due tomorrow."

She glared more, but I ducked past her and thundered down the stairs. I put the dishes away in record time, hollered down the stairs to Dad, who grunted a response, and dashed out the door, heroically resisting the urge to slam it behind me.

Once outside, I sagged against the wall, limp with relief. I honestly could not take any more of Marge today, and I was not looking forward to returning at dark. The wind picked up, and I shivered, realizing that, in my haste, I'd forgotten to grab a coat. Oh well, I wasn't going back inside to get one. I pushed myself away from the wall and started walking, not really caring where I was going. It didn't matter, in the end.

Out of sheer luck, I found myself headed towards the rec center. I like the rec center: it has not only sport type stuff, but creative clubs and classes. I've done a lot of the art things, and the councilors know me well. I could almost certainly get in without paying, if I promised to pay double next time. I didn't have my wallet with me either.

Sure enough, a grin and an explanation got me into the main complex. I made my way over to the art room and stepped inside, pausing momentarily to shake off the residual fury from my encounter with Marge. When I opened them, Rick, the head councilor, was grinning at me.

"Hard day?" he asked sympathetically.

"You have no idea," I agreed.

"Well, we have stuff you can work on, if you're interested."

I shook my head. "Not now. I will, but not right now."

He nodded. "There's paper over there."

I grinned. "You read my mind. Any chance of charcoal?"

His eyebrows lifted. "In _that_ kind of mood, are you?"

I nodded. "Unfortunately."

He thought for a moment, then jerked his head at a nearby cabinet. "In there. Don't use it all, okay?"

"'Kay." I moved over to the cabinet and surveyed the selection. Finally, I grabbed some and collected several pieces of paper. Making myself comfortable in one of the plastic chairs at the long table, I bent over the paper and began to draw, angrily at first, with the bold slashing lines gradually fading into gentle strokes as I worked my frustration away.

I didn't know how long I'd been there when a soft voice said, "You're very talented."

I whirled, knocked out of my intense conversation. My eyes widened as I realized who it was. "Um…" I said dumbly.

Eric leaned over to examine my drawing. I was acutely aware that he was almost touching me, and I scooted over as much as I could without being obvious about it. "It's very unique," he murmured, almost to himself. He turned to look at me, and I was caught off balance by the intensity of his eyes. "You didn't plan to draw this, did you?"

It was only then that I realized what I'd drawn. I winced as I took in the desolate landscape, drawn in the muted shades of gray that were all charcoal could produce, yet somehow managing to convey anger and pain all at the same time. Sometimes, I wish my psyche wasn't quite as fervent with its brain dumps.

"No," I muttered, moving to take the picture.

"Wait," he said, still examining it. Unwillingly, I receded, wondering just when he would tell me what he was doing here. Finally, he stepped away, allowing me to grab my drawing and glower at it. I debated tearing it up, but decided that I actually kind of liked it. I would tack it up in my bedroom, and maybe Marge would bet the message. Not that she would care, but it would make me feel slightly better.

He sat down across from me and, after getting a nod of permission, took one of the sheets. He pulled out a pencil and began to sketch his own picture, apparently not interested in talking again. Relieved, I picked up the charcoal again and began to doodle one the remaining piece of paper. After a while, my doodles began to take a more determined shape, and I realized with a start that I was drawing him. I stared at the partially completed portrait in horror, then turned it over quickly, hoping against hope he hadn't notice. All I needed was for him to think I was falling for him.

I stood, determined to find Rick and beg for something productive to do. Unfortunately, before I could go more than a few steps, he shifted, and I caught sight of what he'd been drawing. The breath left my body as thoroughly as though someone had punched me in the stomach. And he called _me_ talented! This guy could go pro no problem!

"That's amazing," I said without thinking.

"What, this? It's nothing." It was said casually, without any of the false modesty I would expect with such a statement. He really did think it wasn't anything. The thought of what he created that he was actually proud of made my self esteem plummet. Gorgeous _and_ talented. How lucky could a guy _get_?

'He could fall in love with someone who loves him back,' I reminded myself.

"No, really, that's awesome. I wish I could draw that well!"

He looked surprised. "You can," he said. "You're just as good as I am, if not better,"

I snorted. He really was delusional if he thought I was as good as he was. "No I'm not," I said firmly. "I'm nowhere near that good."

He reached over and turned my half done drawing over so that he could look at it. I winced, and I saw his eyebrows shoot up as he realized what I'd drawn. "Sorry about that," I muttered, taking it back from him. "My subconscious doesn't follow orders." 'Oh, really great, Rathburn,' I told myself bitterly as his eyes met mine, clearly searching. 'Give him hope, will you? How cruel can you _be_?' I was aware that I was slowly turning a shade of red that any tomato would envy, and I knew I had to get out of here _soon_.

He didn't answer, giving me time to take a deep breath and work on returning to a color normal. I turned and moved off, my two drawing clutched tight in one hand. I knew that there was no way I could draw anything normal today. My subconscious truly had too much to say, and I was afraid to give it free reign. Movement. That was what I needed. I didn't care how much more that meant I would have to pay next time I came. Some things are worth paying for.

Another grin got me a tennis ball and a racket, and I stepped into the indoor court, folding the two stupid pictures up and stuffing them into my pocket. I swore to myself that I would shred the picture of Eric first chance I got.

Now, let's get one things quite clear: I am not a jock. I have never been, nor will I ever will be, athletically inclined. But there are times when a guy's just got to hit something hard and repeatedly, and there's nothing better for that kind of thing than a tennis ball… unless maybe it's a person you hate. But since I'm not allowed to kill her any more than she's allowed to hit me, I would have to make do with a tennis ball.

I'd almost gotten good enough to hit it back every time it came to me when the door to the court opened and another figure stepped in. I winced, sure that he was stalking me, and turned to yell at him to leave me alone. My angry words died on my lips as I realized that it wasn't Eric after all. I grinned. "Dom! Where have you been lately?"

Dominic, my best friend, grinned back, walking farther into the court and letting the door slam shut behind me. I reached out, and we embraced each other, both grinning widely. "My Mom went off to China," he said. "I went with her."

"Ever heard of email?"

"No service."

"You left me to think something horribly drastic had happened to you."

He snorted. "Like you didn't know I would be back." Dom's mother is an archeologist, and she tends to travel a lot. Since Dom wants to be one when he grows up, she takes him on some of the more interesting trips. Clearly this one made the grade.

"So, what'd you dig up? More clay soldiers?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Merchant ships."

I raised my eyebrows. "Underwater?"

He nodded.

"Branching out?"

He shrugged. "Mom wanted to try it, and I wanted to try it, and so we tried it. I think I'll stick with actual digging, thanks all the same."

I snickered. "You don't like diving?"

He shuddered. "Have _you_ ever jumped into an ocean full of sharks and prayed that they won't kill you?"

"Nope. Don't want to, either. You can keep your sharks and your boats to yourself."

"Someone else can have them," he assured me. "I'll stick with clay soldiers."

"Why don't you just dig up the stuff around here?" I complained, bending down to scoop up the tennis ball.

He grimaced. "Not interested. I didn't know you liked tennis."

"And why not? Indians are cool. And I don't."

"Indians are overdone and boring. So why are you playing if you don't like it?"

It was my turn to grimace. "I needed to vent, and my subconscious hates me."

His eyebrows shot up. "Come again?"

"I can't draw anything but shit right now," I said bitterly. "And half of it's bad shit."

He snorted. "I doubt that. Anything you draw can't be that bad. Let's see?"

I shook my head. "No way. I'm not showing them to _anyone_."

He rolled his eyes. "Why not?"

"Because Kiki and Joe will kill me."

Dom doesn't go to school with us, but he knows the rest of them. He laughed. "That bad, is it?"

I nodded.

"I promise I won't tell them."

"Yeah, like that'll work. You know how they are."

"I can keep my mouth shut."

"That's not the issue."

He sighed. "You have so little faith in me," he complained.

I shrugged. "I'm not suicidal yet."

His eyebrows shot up. "Yet?"

I sighed. Might as well spill. "Marge threatened to kick me out of the house today."

He whistled softly. "_Damn_," he said slowly. "Where would you go?"

"Dunno. She says I should go to Mom, but, well, you know."

He nodded. "Yeah. Well, you can crash at our place for a while if you need to, but…"

I understood. Dom's dad died when he was just a kid, and his mom travels a lot. I knew I'd be welcome for as long as they were in the country, but I couldn't travel with them. They couldn't afford it. "Thanks. It hasn't gone that far yet."

"But you think it will." It wasn't a question.

I sighed again. "She hates me, Dom. She really does."

He put a comforting hand on my arm. "Yeah, I know she does."

"I don't even know _why_ she hates me!" I complained, suddenly needing to let all the poison out. "I mean, it's not like I've ever _done_ anything to her. She's just always hated me."

"I know," he said again. We were both silent for a moment, and then I threw the tennis ball up in the air. I hit it viciously against the wall, watching as it bounced back at me. Dom intercepted it, sending it flying back at the wall. We continued like that for a while, not talking.

"You know, sometimes I really envy you," I said after a moment, hitting the ball against the wall again.

"Me?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. At least you've got a family who actually _cares_ about you."

"Doesn't your Dad care?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. He doesn't really care enough. I think he's afraid of Marge."

"That's not hard," he muttered, hitting the ball up and over the net so that it almost flew above my head. I managed to catch it just in time, and I sent it ricocheting back at the wall.

"When I see you and your mom," I continued, watching as he chucked the ball especially hard, "I can just feel how much you guys care about each other."

He sighed. "We do care about each other," he admitted, narrowing his eyes as the neon-colored ball zoomed towards him. "But I'm all she has. You have your friends, at least."

"So do you," I pointed out.

"I have you. No one else is willing to make the commitment to long distance friendships," he said, more than a little bitterly.

My eyes widened. "Why not?" I demanded.

He shrugged. "Why does Marge hate you? People are just like that."

I nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right." The tennis ball flew past my outstretched racket and struck the opposite wall, bouncing off and rolling into the corner. I moved over to retrieve it. "People are idiots most of the time."

"Yeah," he agreed softly. I held the tennis ball in one hand, idly tossing it up and down. A glance at my watch told me that almost two hours had passed, and my eyes widened. "Fuck," I muttered. "Now she really is going to kill me. I promised I'd be home by dark."

"You want to stay at our place?" he asked, looking at his own watch. "My mom can call Marge."

Tempting as the idea was, I shook my head. "No, better just go and face the music once and for all. If she really does kick me out, I might be over."

"We'll keep something for you," he promised.

"You leaving yet?"

He shook his head. "Tennis isn't the kind of thing you get on digs in China. I'll stay for a while."

I tossed him the ball. "Here. Knock yourself out." I moved towards the door, my steps slow and my heart heavy.

"Will you be all right?" he asked worriedly.

I nodded. "Yeah. She's not going to kill me. At least, I don't think she will."

"Listen, Adarius."

"Yeah?"

He paused, then sighed. "Look, if you need to talk to anyone, you know you can talk to me, right?"

I nodded, unable to speak for a moment. "Yeah," I said softly. "Thanks."

He hugged me then, a tight hug that transmitted all the reassurance I craved. I clung to him momentarily, then stepped back. He let me go, his dark eyes worried. I forced a smile onto my face, knowing that he wouldn't buy it.

The door to the court closed behind me, and I walked back to the main desk, my steps echoing too loudly in the deserted hallway. Wait, not _quite_ deserted. As I turned the corner, I saw Eric standing half concealed in the shadows, an expression of utter despair on his face.


	2. What is love?

_Author's note: Well, here's the second part of my story. We're getting almost to the proper Snow White part, though a lot of it's in the third part. Thanks for the ONE review that I got, Eggman Oyu Castle, you are amazing!!! For the rest of you: review! Please?_

* * *

**Part 2: What is love?**

Yearbook is the only class all five of us have together. Minnie's the longest serving member: she's been in it since Freshman year. Joe's looking to steal the position from her, though she has a ways to go. Bubble and I only joined this year, and I have no idea how long Kiki's been doing it. It seems to be the one class she takes seriously, which is a relief. At least we can depend on her as a group member.

I'd managed to avoid being unceremoniously shown to the door last night only because Marge had gone out and only Dad was home. He gave me a meaningful look, and told me that he wouldn't tell her this once. I just about died with sheer relief. I knew that I was only putting off the inevitable, though. Sooner or later she would find_something_ and I would be promptly evicted. I didn't like to think about what would happen after that.

Minnie was already in the yearbook room as Bubble and I appeared. She waved us over, a grin on her face. My eyes narrowed in suspicion. That look was _not_ a good sign.

"What is it?" I asked warily, sitting down across from her.

Her grin widened, and she nodded over towards the front of the room. It was only then that I saw them. Eric and a girl, presumably his sister, stood there, looking only slightly uncomfortable. Eric, seeing me, gave me a shy smile. I turned away and buried my face in my hands, doing my best not to beat my head against a wall. Hard. And repeatedly. This was starting to look like fate, unless he was stalking me. I tried very hard not to remember the expression on his face yesterday evening. How much could one guy _take_?

"I. Hate. You." I informed Minnie through clenched teeth.

"Why? I'm not the one who put them here."

"I don't care. I hate you anyway."

She sighed. "What did he do to _you_?" she demanded.

"You don't want to know."

That was not the right thing to say to Minnie. Her eyes narrowed and she propped her hands on her hips. "Come on Rathburn. Spill."

I shook my head obstinately. "No."

"Does it have something to do with Dom coming back last night?"

I frowned. "How did you know?"

She grinned smugly. "He called me." Her grin faded, replaced by an expression of concern. "He sounded worried. What did you do to him?"

I groaned softly. "I kinda broke down in front of him," I admitted.

"Why?"

Using as few words as possible, I told her all about Marge's pronouncement. Her face went tight with fury. "She can't _do_ that to you!" she hissed.

"She can," I said flatly. "Unless I can prove in court that Mom's unfit to look after me, and I can't."

"Why not? Isn't she?"

"Of course she isn't. But perpetually going broke isn't enough in most places."

"What about the drugs?"

"She's supposed to be clean."

"And is she?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Minnie, she's on chemo 24-7, surrounded with bottles and pills. What do _you_ think?"

She winced. "Ouch."

"Yeah. I just have to hope Marge cools off a bit. Maybe she can stop from kicking me out until I'm eighteen, at least."

"Do you think she will?"

"No," I said flatly. "But I have to hope, don't I?"

She sighed. "Yeah, guess you do."

Bubble intervened then, clearly deciding that we weren't paying nearly enough attention to her. "Is that the girl Joe was drooling over?" She nodded over at the girl I assumed to be Adele.

Minnie nodded. She wasn't able to answer because Joe herself came up then, followed by Kiki. Joe's eyes were sparkling, giving Bubble all the answer she needed. Her eyes traveled from Adele to Eric, and I saw her gin in anticipation.

"Don't bother," I muttered to her. "He's not interested."

She turned her sky blue eyes on me. "How do you know?" she asked, frowning slightly.

Kiki snickered. "Because he's got it bad for Rathburn here."

I winced. "Yeah, just broadcast it to the whole planet, will you?" I muttered.

Bubble was staring at Eric in disbelief, a pout on her face. "He's gay?" she asked.

"Apparently."

"That's not _fair_!" she said. "_I_ wanted him!"

"And I'd love to give him to you," I assured her. "But I'm basically a nice person."

This time, it was Minnie who snorted. I turned to glower at her. "Do you have something do add?" I asked warningly.

"No," she said, her voice giving no trace of anything but complete sincerity. I didn't believe her for a second.

The bell rang then, loudly and shrilly, signaling the start of the class period. Mr. Coll, our supervisor, stood, motioning for us to listen. "I won't keep you long," he assured us. "I just wanted to introduce our two new members. These are Adele and Eric White, who come from New York. They were both on the yearbook staff there, so they know how it works." His eyes scanned the room quickly, finding Minnie among the rest of us. "Claire, why don't you tell them how we do things, in case it's different from what they're used to." In an undertone, which all of us heard, he added, "Claire has been on the staff for three years now, so she's our local expert." We laughed. This is Mr. Coll's first year as yearbook supervisor, and Minnie probably _does_ know more about how it works than he does.

He cut us loose then, and Minnie turned to look at us. "Right," she said. "You are coming with me."

I scowled. "I hate you," I said again.

"Rathburn, you have to talk to him sometime," she said, propping her hands on her hips.

"Why?" I muttered. "He already thinks I'm in love with Dom."

Kiki stared at me for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"He does," I said defensively. "Why is that funny?"

"You, in love, with _Dom_?" she gasped, trying to catch her breath. "If you don't see what's funny there, you don't know anything about what's funny."

"Why, because I'm not in love with him?" I asked dryly.

"Because neither you nor Dom are the type to fall in love with guys," she answered promptly. I very carefully did _not_ mention that Dom was _exactly_ the type to fall in love with a guy. He'd confessed years ago, and I'd promised to keep it a secret, something I had done faithfully. I have no objection whatsoever to gay guys, it's only when they happen to like _me_ that I have the problem. Dom does not like me, I'm sure of that.

"True," Minnie agreed. "It's a bit ironic, isn't it?"

"Sure," I muttered. I dropped my backpack on the ground and sighed. "Let's get this over with."

Minnie led us over to where Adele and Eric were waiting patiently. I saw Eric try to make eye contact with me, and I kept my eyes firmly fixed on Minnie. Joe noticed, and she scowled at me. I leaned back slightly, so that Minnie wouldn't see me mouth, "What do you want me to do?"

"Be nice," she mouthed back.

Without looking, Minnie reached back and smacked Joe. "Pay attention," she said, still not looking at Joe.

Joe glared at me, then turned her attention back to what Minnie was saying. With a slight sigh, I did the same, tuning in just in time to hear Minnie say, "Adele, you can work with Adarius and Addison. Eric, you stay with Sarah, Michiko, and me."

I shot her a look of relief, bending down to mutter, "Never mind, I don't hate you after all."

She eyed me speculatively. "You owe me an apology," she informed me crisply, moving to nab a computer.

"I apologize sincerely and intensely for everything I have ever done to you," I said fervently. "And anything I may do without realizing it."

She grinned. "Good. And you could be a little less obvious, you know. I'm sure the poor guy thinks you hate him."

"If he thinks that, he'll stop stalking me."

"He was stalking you?"

"How do you think he knows about Dom?"

She rolled her eyes. "Since I'm assuming you ran into Dom at the Rec. Center, it's not technically stalking. It's not like he was at your house or anything, is it?" She made it into a question at the last minute. I shook my head. "Well then." She sat down at a computer. "Now, go off and get to work. You're doing tennis today, aren't you?"

I nodded. "Yup." I glanced behind me and grabbed Bubble's arm. "C'mon Bubble, you're not done with Homecoming yet."

She grinned as she followed me. Adele trailed us, a slightly irritated look on her face. I wondered suddenly how much of our conversation she'd overheard, and I felt slightly guilty. Maybe Minnie and Joe were right. Maybe I _should_ be nicer to Eric. Then the sight of his crushed face popped into my mind's eye, and I told myself once again that it was all for the best.

"Do you have anything to work on yet?" I asked Adele, motioning for her to take a seat at a computer.

"No," she said, her voice tight and slightly cold. Apparently she'd heard enough.

I sighed, then lifted my head and hollered, "Hey Mr. Coll!"

"What?" he shouted back. Mr. Coll doesn't believe in hand raising, and communicate with him solely through shouting. Secretly, I think this is probably why he's the yearbook sponsor, and not the English teacher, but I'm not complaining.

"Do you have anything for Adele to do?"

He considered for a moment, then shook his head. "Not today. Let her watch over your shoulder for a bit."

"'Kay." I turned back to my computer and logged on quickly. My desktop popped up, and I shoved my USB pen into the appropriate slot, drumming my fingers on the table as I waited for it to load. She didn't say anything, yet I was acutely aware that she was watching my every move.

Bubble was already logged on and typing, her fingers flying across the keys far faster than I could ever hope for. Bubble may be empty-headed, but she sure can type. She just doesn't know what to say.

"Its with no apostrophe," I said absently, reading over her shoulder.

"What?"

I pointed. "There. No apostrophe."

"Oh." She deleted the offending punctuation mark. "Better?"

I grinned, nodding. She grinned back, and I pulled up my own files. I've been told that I'm obsessive compulsive about keeping my folders organized and down to no more than three files per folder, which I think is absolute rubbish. There's no denying that I keep my USB pen better organized than anything else, though. Then again, since no one but me can navigate through my maze of folders, maybe it's not that organized after all.

I couldn't help glancing at her as I worked, and I didn't like what I was seeing. Her lips were constantly pursed in disapproval, and her brown eyes could have rivaled Marge's for disapproval. I supposed that she was still angry about how I was treating her brother, but it still hurt. I hadn't done anything to _her_, after all! Then again, they _were_ twins. Maybe she could receive his emotions or something. I was pretty sure I'd read stories where twins could do that.

The bell finally rang, and she stood, her back perfectly straight and her eyes cold. She walked away without a word, and I sighed.

"What's wrong with her?" Bubble asked, looking after her.

I shrugged. "She's probably pissed that I'm being mean to her brother."

Bubble grimaced. "Oh."

I nodded. "Exactly."

We walked to History, both carrying far too many books. I hate my backpack with a passion, and I dump it into my locker as soon as I can. Unfortunately, that means that I have to carry rather too many books around all the time. Bubble just forgets to shove her stuff back into her backpack, though she carries it around with her all the time.

The bell rang for the end of the day, and I dashed out into the open air. Bubble followed more slowly, grinning. "What's so important?" she asked as I slowed to let her catch up.

I shrugged. "I'm sick of school," I said. "And I want to get out of the building."

She frowned. "Why?"

"Well, for one thing, if I'm not home right after school, Marge'll finish the job of killing me. For another, it's Friday, and I want to get home.)

"Not to mention that you want to get away from the corrupting influences of our newest student," Minnie added, popping up in front of me.

I jumped, then glowered at her. "_No_! That's not it!"

She looked hard at me, and I sighed.

"Well, not much. And it's not a corrupting influence, thank you very much."

"It better not be," Joe, who had joined us, muttered darkly.

"Where's Kiki?" Bubble asked, clearly changing the subject. I grinned. Clearly, she didn't want to discuss Eric. At least I wasn't the only one.

Minnie waved vaguely towards the building. "Detention," she said. "She should be out soon."

All of us grinned. Kiki, among other things, is a master of getting out of detentions. Sure enough, five minutes later, we caught sight of her bright blue hair making its way through the mess of students.

"That was fast," I commented once she was within hearing range.

She shrugged. "I'm still sick," she pointed out.

Minnie raised her eyebrows. "Really? You don't look it."

Kiki grinned. "Well, I'm technically better, but the teachers don't know that, do they?"

"And you're a good enough actress to pull it off?" Joe asked skeptically.

"I, my dear, am a good enough actress to pull _anything _off."

We all laughed, and she sighed. "I can see you don't appreciate me," she proclaimed, her tone mournful.

"We appreciate you," Joe assured her. "We just don't respect you much."

"You'd _better_ respect me, you lowly Freshman you," she retorted. "_I_ am a senior, and that gives me the right to crush you into the ground."

Joe eyed Kiki, decided that it wasn't worth it, and grimaced. "All right, you win this time. I respect you. Happy?"

Kiki nodded.

"I should probably go," I interjected. "I'd kind of like to stay alive to enjoy the weekend."

Minnie nodded. "Good plan. You're welcome to come over to my house if it gets too bad."

I smiled gratefully. "Thanks. I might just take you up on that."

"I have to go too," Bubble announced.

"Still grounded?" Joe asked sympathetically.

Bubble nodded. "Until Sunday," she said.

"That sucks," Kiki said. "What for?"

Bubble launched into her description of her neighbors' plot against her, and I waved at them all and took off towards my house, praying to any God who happened to be listening that Marge wasn't home yet. She was.

"Where have you been?" she demanded as I closed the front door and turned to face her.

"At school."

"School has been out for over half an hour."

"It takes a while to walk."

"Why didn't you take the bus?"

"I have no money."

"Why not?"

I have no money because I'm too young to get a job and Marge won't pay me an allowance, but that's not the kind of thing one says to a woman like her. I shrugged instead. Bad move.

Her eyes narrowed and she glared at me. "Do not simply brush me off," she hissed. "I have _had_ it with your attitude!"

_My_ attitude? Seems to me like it's _her_ attitude that's the problem. Once again, though, that's not the kind of thing you should say to her. "Sorry."

She looked hard at me, as though trying to find something else wrong with me. I held my breath, hoping she wouldn't. I might not enjoy living with her, but it's a damn sight better than what I would get at my Mom's. Evidently she couldn't find anything terrible enough to justify throwing me out just now, and she subsided with a sniff and a scowl. I darted past her with relief, doing my best not to thump up the stairs and refraining from slamming the door. My cell phone vibrated in my pocket, and I dug it out.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me."

"Hey Dom! What's up?"

"Not much. You?"

I grimaced. "I'm still at the house, at least."

"That's good." I could tell he was distracted, but he didn't seem about to tell me what was wrong.

"What's wrong?" I asked, deciding just to go ahead and ask.

"Nothing."

I propped one hand on my hip, even though he couldn't see me. "Give me a break Dom. You can't lie to me. What is it?"

He sighed ruefully. "Why do you _always_ know?" he whined.

I grinned. "Maybe because you're a rotten liar? Spill."

There was a pause, and I waited impatiently, pacing up and down my room and doing my best not to interrupt. Finally, he took a deep breath and asked, "Who was the guy at the Rec. center? You know, the one with the sandy blond hair? Do you know him?"

I sighed in resignation. I should have guessed. "Yeah, I know him. His name's Eric White. He and his sister are transfer students from New York."

Dom whistled softly. "Cool. You know anything about him?"

I couldn't help grinning. "You're in luck," I told him. "If you can catch him, he's yours."

Dom's voice was full of disbelieving excitement. "No way. No fucking _way_! You are not telling me he's gay, are you?"

"I am," I assured him.

"How do you know?"

I grimaced. Then, I sighed. I'd wanted him to tell me everything, so I supposed I should return the favor. "It's a bit of a long story."

"I have time."

I took a deep breath, then explained about art class and yearbook and meeting him in the art room at the rec. center. When I was done, there was a long moment of silence. Finally, he said, "So he thinks you're in love with me?"

"I think so," I affirmed.

"Damn."

"Exactly."

"So what are you going to do?"

I shrugged. "I have no idea. Any suggestions?"

He paused, thinking. Finally, he sighed. "Tell him you're not interested?"

"You know how to tell someone you're sorry but you don't swing their way? Or, rather, you know how to tell them that without them killing you?"

"No," he admitted.

"There you go."

"Well, are you just going to let him think you're in love with me?"

I burst out laughing.

"What?" he demanded, sounding offended.

"You have no idea how funny that sounded," I managed.

He sighed. "Did you have a hard day?"

"How could you tell?"

"You only act like a lunatic when you're trying to erase memories of a bad day. What happened?"

I sighed. "Nothing out of the ordinary," I admitted. "Well, except for Eric and Adele in yearbook."

"And at home?"

I shrugged again. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

"'Darius," he said warningly.

"No, really," I protested. "It wasn't any worse than usual."

"Then what's up?"

"Nothing, other than the usual reminder of just how loved I really am."

He snorted. "You're plenty loved," he assured me. "Just not by her."

"Thanks," I said dryly. "That's so comforting."

He laughed. "Any time. So, what are you going to do?"

I groaned. "I told you, I don't know!"

There was a silence, and then he said, "Listen, I've got to go. Talk to you later, 'kay?"

"See ya," I agreed. There was a click, and the line went dead. I stared at the phone in my hands for a long moment, idly tracing the lines than ran down the middle of the screen. It's been dropped more than a few times.

"Adarius!"

I sighed and yanked my door open. "Yeah Dad?"

"Dinner."

I looked at my clock in surprise. It was almost five! Where had the time since I came home gone? I looked ruefully at my phone, trying to calculate by just how much I had exceeded my minutes. Yet another reason for Marge to kill me. Just what I needed.

"Lots of homework?" he asked, as I stuffed my phone back into my pocket and yanked on the chain that turns my light off.

I shrugged. "Some. If I'm not on house arrest, I'll probably go over to someone's house this weekend. Sarah's better at math than I am."

He laughed. I get my mad skills at math from him. I laughed too, and my spirits lightened momentarily. Dad wouldn't let Marge kick me out… would he?

My good mood vanished the moment we reached the kitchen. She was there, standing in front of the stove, glowering. I sighed and moved to set the table. She watched me in icy silence, one that Dad tried unsuccessfully to penetrate. I shot him a smile when her back was turned, grateful that he was trying. He knew as well as I did that it was useless.

We made it through dinner without killing each other, something that I considered a major achievement. After all, any day when I can survive without being kicked out is a good one.

I woke up the next morning to the beeping of my alarm. I blinked, trying to make a connection. Alarm. Saturday. Oops. I shut the alarm off, closed my eyes, and waited.

I didn't have long to wait. "_Adarius_!"

"Sorry!"

She didn't answer, and I let my breath out, hoping I was off the hook. When she didn't come barging into my room either, I allowed myself to hope more. Could it be possible…?

It wasn't. She didn't say anything to me, but I could just feel her anger. Dad could feel it too, and he did the smart thing: claimed he had work to do and vanished into the basement as soon as he possibly could. I wasn't nearly as clever, and I waited longer in the kitchen than I had to.

"Hey Marge?"

"What?" she demanded, not turning.

"I'm going over to my friend's house after lunch."

She whirled, hands on her hips, face furious. "Oh you are, are you?"

I winced. "If that's okay with you, I mean."

"No, it's not okay with me. Do you have any idea how hard I work to keep this house in any kind of order at all? It's bad enough that your father refuses to help, now you announce that you're leaving without so much as asking permission. Well, fine. Leave. And don't come back." She stomped out of the room, leaving me staring after her. A large hollow began to form in the pit of my stomach as her words connected in my mind. She'd done it. She'd kicked me out. Just like that. I could hardly believe it had happened.

I went up to my room and began to gather my things. I moved slowly, trying to decide just what I could live without. I honestly wouldn't put it past her to burn my stuff once I'd gone, and I tried to imagine what I would miss the most. My sketchpad was a no-brainer, as were the jeans Mom had bought me for my last birthday. I dumped out my school backpack and began to jam things into it, doing my best to distance myself from the pain of rejection. As I worked, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and flipped it open. I punched in Minnie's number and waited, counting the rings as I methodically put clothes into the backpack. She picked up on the fourth ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey Minnie."

She noticed the dull overtone. I could just picture her frowning. "What's wrong?"

"She did it."

There was a shocked pause, and then Minnie demanded, "Was she serious?"

"Minnie, have you ever known her _not_ to be serious?"

"True," she admitted. "So where are you going to go?"

I shrugged. "I thought I'd take you up on your offer until I can find a more permanent place."

"Okay. I'll tell my mom."

"Thanks."

"Rathburn." Her voice was serious, and I sighed.

"Yes?"

"I want you to tell me the truth here, understand?"

"What is it, Minnie?"

"How are you handling this?"

I sighed again. It was about what I'd expected from her. "I'm coping."

"Are you sure?" There was a warning tone in her voice, which I ignored.

"Yes."

"We'll talk more about this later," she told me. "Come over as soon as you're ready."

"Thanks," I said again. I flipped the phone shut and shoved it back into my pocket. I looked one last time at my room, then sighed. I had no more time. I had to leave. I ran one last affectionate hand along the bedpost, smooth and shiny from years of such treatment, and gently closed the door behind me. As I walked down the stairs, I forced myself not to look back.

Minnie was waiting for me at her house, and she ushered me in without a word. Minnie's house is enormous, and it's a good thing that it is. She has five siblings, none much taller that her, and none with less energy. Her mom's the same way, and I always had the sensation of wandering into the house of the seven dwarves when I went there. Now, with the parallels between me and Snow White getting more evident by the day, the comparison seemed much less amusing.

"Here, this is yours," Minnie announced, throwing open the door to a room. I stared at it. It was about three times the size of my old room. I sighed. When I made enough money to get my own room again, it would probably be about seven times smaller: I doubted I could make enough money to afford anything more than an apartment. I decided to enjoy this while I could.

"Thanks."

"Don't worry about it. Do you want time to settle in?"

I shrugged, and she scowled. "Unless you start showing some emotion, Rathburn, then so help me God, I will come in there and… and _sing_ to you until you snap out of it!"

I winced. Minnie can do many things, but singing is not one of them. "Don't you dare."

"I will," she insisted.

I sighed. "What do I have to pay you so that you don't?"

"Well, tell me the truth, for starters. How _are_ you handling it?"

I shrugged. "I told you, I'm coping."

Her eyes narrowed. "Define 'coping'."

I considered. "Well, you can hardly expect me to be just peachy about this, can you? I've been kicked out of my house and, no offence, but this isn't the same. My stepmother has officially declared that she hates my guts, and I forgot my toothbrush at my house. On the other hand, I'm not about to break down in tears or start mutilating myself. Happy?"

She nodded. "For now. We have a toothbrush for you, by the way."

"Thanks."

"And I won't even tell Kiki unless you want me to."

I smiled wanly at her. "Thanks," I repeated. "Though I'll have to tell them eventually."

She shrugged. "Of course you will. I'm just saying _I_ won't do it unless you ask me to."

"I'll do it myself, thanks all the same. Which reminds me, can I use your phone? Mine's just about dead."

She nodded and tossed hers to me. "Did you bring your charger?"

I dug through my backpack, then sighed. "No. Damn."

"Give yours to me. I'll use my charger."

"Thanks." I chucked my phone at her, and she caught it easily.

"Who are you going to call?"

"Dom."

"Oh. I'll leave you to it then, shall I? I'll call you for dinner."

"Thanks."

She left then, and I flipped open her phone and punched Dom's number in. He picked up on the third ring, and I could tell right away that he was confused.

"Minnie?"

I shook my head. "It's me."

The concern in his voice doubled. "Adarius? What's wrong?"

I explained what had happened. The full news shocked him into silence for a long moment. Then he exploded.

"She can't _do_ that! You're not eighteen yet, your mom's not a fit guardian for you! She's not allowed to kick you out! Why doesn't your dad do something?"

"Dom," I said, when he showed every sign of continuing. "Shut up."

He stopped mid sentence. "'Darius?"

I sighed. "Look, it's over. She did it, and there's nothing you can do to change that."

"Yeah, but…"

"But nothing. There's nothing we can do. I'm at Minnie's house now, and I'll stay there until we can think of something else to do. Until then, just, chill, okay?"

I could hear him take a deep breath. "Okay. I'm sorry, she just makes me so…"

I nodded. "I know," I assured him. Minnie's phone beeped suddenly, and I grimaced. "Minnie's phone is dying, apparently. Look, tell you what. I'll met you at the rec. center in a couple of hours, 'kay?"

"Okay," he said reluctantly. "You're _sure_ you'll be all right?"

"I'll be fine," I assured him. "See you soon."

"See you," he said. Minnie's phone beeped again, and I hung up.

Two hours later, I was on my way to the rec. center. I'd finally convinced Minnie that I didn't want company, and I was completely alone. I walked slowly, savoring the calm and the fresh air. The wind blew softly through the trees, making a slight rustling sound as it passed. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to find inner peace. My language arts teacher is all about inner peace, and I figured I may as well try. It didn't work, and I opened my eyes again, smiling a little ruefully. Apparently it took more than just the desire for inner peace and a breath of fresh air to find it. Maybe it would help if I actually believed in it. Or maybe it was just a scam engineered by my teacher to get us out of the house.

Dom was waiting for me at the entrance to the rec. center, and we walked in together. I paid the people at the desk double, earning a grin from the girl behind the counter, and we made our way deeper into the complex.

"What shall we do today?" Dom asked, slowing.

I shrugged. "You pick. I don't trust myself anywhere near a sketchpad, though."

He frowned. "Why not?"

"Emotional overload. I don't even want to _think_ of the stuff I'd get if I tried to draw now."

"Maybe you should. It would get the stuff out on paper, at least."

I shook my head. "No it won't. Trust me on this one, Dom, it's best if I stay well away from the paper for a while."

"If you're sure…" he said reluctantly.

"I am," I assured him. "So, how do you want to kill me today?"

His answering grin was tight, but it was there. "Basketball?"

I shrugged. "Fine." We made our way to the courts, and Dom scooped up a ball.

"I'll go easy on you," he promised, dribbling it experimentally.

"Good."

We got into position, and he tossed me the ball. "You start."

Within five minutes, I was losing. Badly. Have I mentioned that I'm not a jock?

After ten minutes, Dom called a halt, and I collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. He, still breathing easily, sat down next to me. "Better?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Give me a second," I panted. At his nod, I closed my eyes and concentrated on getting my breath back. Finally, I opened them again and nodded. "Better," I agreed. "But I thought you were going to go easy on me!"

"I _was_," he said, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, how on_Earth_ do you manage to pass P.E. class?"

I grinned. "They don't grade on skill, just on ability not to die."

"And since you're still alive, it means you've passed the classes?"

"Exactly."

He shook his head in amazement. "Yay for public schools."

I laughed. "Indeed. What, your mom makes you beat her at basketball to pass that part of the curriculum?"

He shook his head. "No. She makes me beat Anthony."

I winced. Anthony, Dom's mom's not quite boyfriend, was quite possibly the best non-pro basketball player I've ever met. "And can you?"

He shrugged. "No. I pass anyway, though."

I grinned. "You're mom's too nice to fail you."

"That's what you think," he muttered.

I blinked. "You telling me she has failed you?"

"Well, no," he admitted. "But she would."

We sat in silence for a while, him idly tossing the basketball back and forth from hand to hand, me getting the last remnants of my breath back.

Finally, he asked the question I knew he'd been burning to ask ever since I arrived. "How's it going?"

I shrugged. "Why does everyone expect me to break down and sob?" I demanded, slightly irritated. "I'm handling it perfectly well."

"So why can't you draw?" he shot back.

I winced. "Okay, so I'm not perfect. Did you expect me to be?"

"I expect you to be honest with me," he said bluntly. "Are you in danger of losing it?"

I rolled my eyes, but my answer was more honest than the ones I'd given Minnie. "I'm not sure yet. I'm fighting for control as hard as I possibly can, and for now I'm winning, but…"

He nodded. "Yeah. You'll tell me if you need help, right?"

"Yeah," I promised.

He grinned slightly. "Thanks. You have no idea how hard this is for the rest of us, do you?"

I blinked. "What?"

"Watching your life crumble around you. You don't think it's a piece of cake for any of us, do you?"

"It's not your life," I pointed out.

"No, but that doesn't matter. We're your friends, Adarius. We care about you."

"I know. But none of this is your burden to bear."

He reached over and smacked me on the head. Hard. "Bull. Of course it is. When will you get it through your skull that seeing you hurt hurts the rest of us?"

"I know that," I said softly.

"Then why won't you let us in?"

I sighed. He deserved honesty, though I wasn't too eager to give it to him. "I'm scared, all right?" I admitted, scowling slightly.

He blinked. "Scared of what?"

"What do you think? Put yourself in my shoes for a minute, okay?"

"Okay."

"So, you have a stepmom who hates your guts, and a dad who's too afraid of her to do anything. You have really good friends who mean the world to you. You don't want to lose those friendships. You're afraid that to lean on them too much will drive them away from you, and you'll give anything in the world to stop that from happening. Got that?"

He nodded, his eyes wide.

"So then said stepmom tells you to get the hell out of her house. You don't know where to go, so you go to your friend's house and hope they'll understand. They let you in and promise to let you stay as long as you want, but you're still afraid they're only doing it because they feel they have to. You don't want to impose on them any more than you have to, so you do your best not to burden them with your problems. Get it now?"

He looked at me for a long moment, then shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. "You're an idiot, you know."

I stared at him, taken aback. "What?"

"We don't give a damn about the so-called burden, which doesn't exist, by the way. You're making it harder on us by not saying anything. If you want to make all our lives easier, just tell us the truth and have done with it. All your lies and evasions are just making it a lot harder on us."

I blinked. "What?" I said again.

He sighed. "Look, just understand this: we're not going to give up on you, so you'd better just give up on your pride and tell us everything. Got it?"

I shook my head. "Not really," I admitted.

He put the basketball down and put both hands on my shoulders, turning me so that I faced him. "We are your friends, Adarius," he said, loudly and clearly. "And we want to help you."

"Oh."

He let go, picking the basketball up again and tossing it towards the hoop. It missed by several feet, and he grimaced. "So, tell me the truth. Will you be fine?"

I looked at him in gratitude, thankful beyond measure that he'd switched to the future tense. That one, I could answer without hesitation. "Yes."

He clearly heard the ring of truth in my word, because he nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now, do you have more emotions to kill, or are you expected somewhere else?"

I glanced at my watch, and my eyes widened. "Holy crap!" I breathed, realizing that it was almost five. How long had we been talking?

He glanced at my watch, and his own eyes widened. "Shit!"

"I think we'd better go," I said. He nodded, and dashed across the court to retrieve the basketball. We made our way out of the complex and onto the road towards Minnie's house. Just before his turn off, Dom paused.

"You _sure_ you're going to be alright?" he asked.

"I'm sure," I told him. "Don't worry. Besides, I'm living with Minnie. How bad do you think she'll let me get?"

"True," he agreed slowly.

"Tell you what. I'll call you tomorrow, 'kay?"

"Okay." He grinned. "Sorry. I'm being overly clingy, aren't I?"

I shrugged. "I get it," I assured him. "But yes. You are."

"I'll try to stop," he promised. "What time is it?"

I glanced at my watch again. "4:58."

"I really really gotta go," he said, grinning. "Talk to you tomorrow."

"See ya," I answered, watching as he took off down the road to his house. I turned myself and headed towards Minnie's house, wondering if I would get in trouble for being late. I didn't, thankfully, and after they'd fed me until I almost burst, I was ushered off to bed and told I would be woken in the morning for church if I wanted to come.

I lay in the dark, staring at the darkness that was the ceiling. It was odd to be somewhere other than my own house. I hadn't been to a proper sleepover since I was seven years old (courtesy of Marge), and I wasn't used to sleeping in a strange bed. I turned over, wondering if I was going to spend the entire night tossing like this. Even if tomorrow was only Sunday, I had no desire to face it on only a couple hours of sleep.

I drifted off eventually, falling into a world of chaos and weirdness that I couldn't remember when I woke up in the morning. When I did wake up, though, I was absolutely positive of two things: first, that Dom was madly in love with Eric, and, second, that I had fallen hard for Eric's sister.


	3. Happily Ever After

**Part 3: Happily Ever After**

School on Monday was something of a hectic affair. We had a pep rally for some dance or other (or maybe it was for the sports teams… I didn't really pay attention), and none of the teachers knew the schedule, so we were forever being shepherded in and out of classrooms until we all wanted to kill something. I, who had to deal not only with the screwed up schedule but also with my newfound knowledge of my own emotions, was ready to go in there with the machine gun. Thankfully, during lunch, I volunteered to help my English teacher, and I pounded my frustration out as I stapled countless sheets of paper together. Stapling is a little known form of stress relief, but it really does work. Unfortunately, I couldn't take my anger out on the stapler for nearly long enough, and when the bell rang for the end of the period, I was almost ready to call in sick. After all, I had art next, and sitting next to Eric was really more than I could handle at this point. But I'm actually a decent student, and Mr. Clark likes me, and running away would be a coward's reaction, and… before I knew it, I was sliding into my seat in the classroom. I sighed.

"Hard day?" Tina asked sympathetically.

"About to get worse," I muttered.

"Jealous?" she teased, as Eric walked shyly up to his seat.

I snorted. "In your dreams. No, I get to go home and do homework and do my best not to get kicked out."

Tina blinked. "What?"

"Never mind," I muttered as Mr. Clark turned his glare on me. I like Mr. Clark a lot, and he likes me too, but we tend to get on each others' nerves.

The bell clanged, and Kiki walked in. Mr. Clark whirled away from me and turned to confront her. He doesn't believe in yelling at students in public, but from Kiki's increasingly bored expression, I could guess that he was chewing her out pretty badly. Kiki's eyes met mine, and her face lit up in a wicked grin as she took in my seating partner. I glared at her and did my best to scoot away without being obvious about it. On her way to her own seat, she hissed, "Now's your chance."

"Fuck off," I hissed back, earning yet another glare, this time from Tina, who doesn't believe in swearing unless absolutely necessary. Eric only looked away, biting his lip. I sighed, trying not to feel guilty. It was hard.

We managed not to speak to each other for half the period, but it wasn't easy. Finally, as I intercepted his stare yet again, I cracked. I leaned towards him. "I don't hate you, you know."

He blinked, obviously amazed that I'd decided to talk to him now. "What?" he managed.

"I don't hate you," I repeated. "But…" I took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to say this. Finally, I sighed. "Look. I'm not an idiot, okay? I've seen how you look at me, and, well, you're wasting your time. I'm sorry if that sounds harsh, but that's how it is."

His eyes had been widening as I spoke, and, by the time I was done, his face was beet red and he wasn't looking at me.

"Sorry about this," I muttered, backing away to work on my drawing.

"Wait," he said softly. I froze.

"Yes?"

"Do you… I mean… do you like anyone else?"

My face turned as red as his. Honesty, I told myself. But this was going to be awkward. Er.

"You don't have to tell me," he said hurriedly, still not looking at me. "It's none of my business."

I suddenly remembered that he thought I was in love with Dom. _There_, at least, I could help him out. "Yeah, I do. Your sister."

He stared at me, his face blank with shock. "What?"

I shrugged. "Not my fault."

"So…" he trailed off, his face a mask of helpless confusion.

I sighed. "I don't know how to put this any other way, okay?"

He nodded.

"I'm not gay. Sorry."

"Oh." His blush had faded, and now he refused even to meet my eyes. "I… I didn't realize."

"It's not your fault."

"I'm the one who should be sorry. It isn't your fault either."

I nodded, wondering if it was even possible for this to get any awkwarder. It was.

"So, um, can I ask you a question?"

I nodded again.

"Who was the guy I saw you with?" Was it just my imagination, or did his voice hold more than a little suspicion?

"My best friend." Great. Now I sounded cold and distant again. "Dom."

"Oh."

Mr. Clark started over towards us, and I ducked my head again, focusing on the picture I'd barely touched. I wished now I'd picked a gemstone other than opal. They were gorgeous to look at, but they were pretty darn hard to draw properly. Mr. Clark glanced at my picture, then raises his eyebrow.

"You need to mix your colors better, Adarius."

I nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."

He glanced at me. "Is something wrong?"

I shook my head. "No. Just tired."

His eyes bored into mine, and I summoned all my strength to hold his gaze, praying that nothing in my face betrayed me. Apparently nothing did, because he nodded and moved on. I breathed a small sigh of relief, turning back to my picture. I had no desire to work on my opal, and I doubted that I would make any progress on it anyway. With a sigh, I filed it back into my binder and flipped to a blank page in my sketchbook. After checking to make sure that Mr. Clark wasn't looking, I drew my knees up – no mean feat, considering that we were in the desks with chairs attached – and balanced my sketchpad precariously just below them. I closed my eyes momentarily, hoping that I wouldn't draw anything inappropriate for school, and put the tip of my pencil to the paper, willing the muses just to take me over and direct my hand.

I wasn't at all sure how long I drew, though I know it didn't take me all period, because people weren't packing up when I came back to reality. A goodish chunk of time had obviously passed, though, and I was willing to bet that my… absence had been noticed.

Sure enough, Eric was frowning at me. When he saw that I could hear him again, he murmured, "Are you all right?"

I shrugged. "I will be."

"What does that mean?"

"I've had a generally crappy couple weeks, and nothing appears to be about to improve in the near future."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

I waved this away. "Not your fault. I suppose it was only a matter of time, anyway."

He frowned. "Excuse me?"

I sighed. "Never mind. It's not your problem."

"Oh."

We worked in silence for a little while longer, him on his gemstone, me on my brain dump. I wasn't at all sure what it was yet, but it didn't really matter. I would figure it out eventually.

By the time the bell rang, I'd discovered that I had drawn another landscape. I sighed. My subconscious seems to be inordinately fond of them, and I have no idea why. This one, contrarily to the previous one, was not quite barren, though it was close. A few dots of color marched across the rocky terrain, giving it the illusion of being almost inhabited. I sighed as I saw it. Was I never capable of drawing anything _normal_? Everything I produced lately seemed to be barren and deeply symbolic of inner torture and whatnot. I was getting rather tired of it. Was there nothing wrong with gems or still lives, for once?

I put my stuff away and stood, leaving my chair standing haphazardly in the middle of the floor. Kiki, her neon-colored head clearly visible even in the art room, walked over to me and propped her hands on her hips. Too tired to play her guessing games, I ignored her and headed towards the door. She kept pace easily, her amusement growing with every step. Finally, as we left the classroom and turned towards the science hallway, I gave up.

"What is it?" I demanded, not really wanting to know.

She knew that I didn't want to know, and she clearly didn't care. "I saw you were talking with him," she said, her grin bordering dangerously on a smirk. "Did you resolve your… ahem… differences?"

I glowered at her. "Kiki, you are walking a _very_ dangerous line," I growled. "I don't really care about the consequences: if you don't drop this, I _will_ kill you and I will laugh as you die. Understand?"

She raised an eyebrow, died the same color as her hair, unfazed by my threats. "Does that mean you still aren't getting along?"

"It means that it's my business, not yours, and that I have no desire to talk about it to anyone, most certainly not you."

She shrugged, apparently accepting it. My eyes narrowed; it's not like her to give up this easily.

"What?" I asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," she answered breezily. "You don't want to talk about it, remember? Now, you are going to be late unless you book it. Go and rescue your Cheerleader in distress from the horrors of magnesium."

I snorted, but she had a point. Still slightly suspicious but unwilling to press the matter further, I headed towards chemistry, arriving just as the bell rang.

"Where were you?" Bubble demanded as I dropped my books on the desk.

"Kiki," I answered briefly. "I am going to kill her if she does what I think she's going to do."

"What do you think she's going to do?"

"I think she's going to worm her way into Eric's good graces and use whatever she learns to blackmail me."

Bubble blinked. "What?"

I shook my head wearily. "Never mind. Did I miss anything?"

She shook her head. "Ms. Randall isn't even here yet."

"Good." I glanced at the board, noting that she hadn't even come in to write the agenda. I frowned. Ms. Randall was usually anally organized and on time. It wasn't like her to be late.

"Do you know if anything's happening?" I muttered to Bubble, watching as the other kids asked basically the same question.

She shook her head. "No clue. If she doesn't come, can we leave? I want to go to the library."

I stared at her, certain I'd heard wrong. "_You_ want to go to the _library_?!" I demanded. "Are you all right?"

She grinned. "I need a computer."

"Why?"

"Max said he'd be on IM all day today."

I groaned. Max is Bubble's online boyfriend wannabe. They met over AIM last year, and it's completely obvious that he's completely head over heels for her. As far as I know she doesn't return the feelings, but who knows? Bubble doesn't need to like a guy to go out with him, she just needs to have enough motivation. I suppose the disappointment of finding out that Eric was gay counted.

"If she's not here in fifteen minutes, we can go." I swiveled around to see Danica, one of the bonafide cheerleader/Prom Queens of the school. She doesn't tend to talk to us, though I know for a fact that she too has a crush on me. I shoved the thought away. It didn't really matter. She would find someone of her own soon enough.

"Is that an actual rule?" I asked. "I thought it was just a student rumor."

She shrugged. "They can't leave us here without supervision, can they?" she asked practically. "I'm fairly certain that's against district rules."

"Good point," I agreed, stealing a look at Bubble, who'd tuned out of the conversation and was distracting herself by staring at the chinchilla our teacher keeps in her room, called, for reasons I do not seek to understand, Buzz. I looked back up at the clock on the wall. "Twelve minutes to go."

Danica nodded, leaning back in her chair. She didn't speak any more, for which I was grateful, only took out a tube of lip gloss and a mirror and began conspicuously applying it to her lips. I just as conspicuously ignored her. The less attention to her I pay the better as far as I'm concerned.

Minutes ticked by as we waited, the volume level of the class gradually growing until it hit a point somewhere beyond deafening. Finally, just as some of the boys decided to start hurling various inanimate objects at each other, our assistant principle, Mr. Davidson, burst through the door. He skidded to a halt, took one look at the chaos that had once been our classroom, and stuck his fingers in his mouth. Two seconds later, an ear piercing whistle echoed through the room, quieting even the most rambunctious of the boys.

"Your teacher has had an accident," he informed us. "She slipped in the parking lot and injured her head. She's at the hospital now, and, no, she's not in any danger of dying." Most of the girls looked relieved at this, while more than a few of the boys sighed with disappointment. Mr. Davidson glowered at them, and they subsided. "You will have a substitute next class. For today, you are dismissed. Any homework you may have had can be turned in next class."

After a moment of shocked silence, noise erupted once more. People milled around, gathering their things, many of which were now strewn around the room, courtesy of the impromptu game of catch that had just ended.

"C'mon Bubble," I said, reaching out and snagging her arm. "You can talk to your Prince Charming after all."

She grinned and grabbed her stack of books, doubling back moments later to grab her purse, which she'd left lying on the chair.

We made our way out of the room, Bubble darting out in front of me in her eagerness, and I rolled my eyes. We made our way to the library, where Bubble snatched a computer from under the nose of another kid. The girl looked surprised, then annoyed, and stalked off in a huff. I grinned slightly and grabbed the computer next to Bubble as the boy using it logged out.

As she logged onto AIM, miraculously still not banned by the firewall, I turned to my own desktop, my grin widening as the picture of Amy Lee I have as my background popped up. Amy Lee is one hot chick, _and_ she can sing. What more can you want? An image of Adele flashed through my brain, and I winced. That wasn't what I meant. Unfortunately, my subconscious really doesn't care, and continued to subject me to tantalizing glimpses of the girl who hated me. I pulled out my iPod.

"What are you doing here?"

I spun to see Kiki. I wasn't sure if she really was off or if she'd decided to ditch, but it didn't really matter. This was Kiki, after all.

"Hello to you too," I agreed pointedly. "Class was canceled."

She raised her eyebrows, whistling softly. "She die?"

"Not quite."

"What happened?"

It took several minutes to recount the gory details in as much detail as Kiki insisted, and, when I'd finally satisfied her, she leaned back, a grin on her face.

"She deserved that."

"_Kiki!!_"

"What? She did."

"That's beside the point," I snapped. "You're just as bad as all the others."

She snorted. "Hardly. I'm _much_ worse than any high school _boy_ could hope to be." The way she said it implied the deepest disgust for my entire gender, something I couldn't help resenting slightly.

"I'm a boy, remember?"

"Hard to forget, isn't it?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Half the girls in the school want to fuck you, and the other half hate you."

"So nice to be loved."

"Oh, you know it is."

She reached behind her and pulled up the chair that had somehow miraculously ended up just within reach. To my relief, she turned her attention to Bubble, leaving me to check my email in peace.

The only thing in my inbox was a letter from my mother, which I opened with no little trepidation. Mom doesn't write to me unless there's a problem, and it's never a simple one. I clicked on the message.

From:

To:

Subject: Quick Question

Hey Adarius. It's me, mom. I just have a quick question for you. Do you know where I could find our medical documents? The doctors want to check something, and I have no idea where on earth they could be. You don't have them, do you?

Let me know asap.

Mom

I reread the message again, then slowly closed out of it, fighting the twin urges to either shout at the top of my lungs or dissolve into tears. Neither would be useful at the present time.

"What's up?" Kiki demanded, presumably in response to my wooden expression.

I shook my head. "Nothing." It sounded fake even to me. She didn't buy it for a second.

"Rathburn," she said warningly.

"Look. My mom's having issues and I have to get her out of them. See you guys later." I logged out and stood, not waiting for the logging off to finish completely. Slinging my backpack over my shoulders, I headed towards the lobby, not really thinking about where I would go. There was only one place I _could_ go, after all. Dad had to know that mom was in the hospital again. Whether for the cancer or the drugs, I didn't know, but the only conceivable reason she could want my medical documents or, more to the point, hers, was that she'd been hospitalized yet again. I didn't even try to figure out how many times it had been. She's been in and out for about as long as I can remember.

"Where are you going?"

I recognized Minnie without making a fool of myself, and I dared to hope that she wouldn't be able to pop out of nowhere anymore.

"Kiki called you?" It would be too much to hope that Kiki'd kept silent. She might be an annoying bitch most of the time, but she worries about me as much as the rest of them do. I wondered briefly if they had meetings to talk about me while I wasn't there, then shoved the thought out of my brain. They were my friends, and they were worried. The least I could do was get them to worry less.

"Of course she did. What's going on?"

"My mom's in the hospital again."

"Oh." I couldn't help feeling relieved that it had been Minnie that Kiki called, and not Joe. Minnie's known me since I was seven years old, and she knows my family issues almost as well as I do. "What can you do?"

"She wants her medical documents, and Dad should know."

Minnie frowned. "Wait, you're going back to your house?"

"Don't have much choice, do I? He has to know."

"What about Marge?"

I sighed. I'd been trying not to think about my evil stepmother. "I can only hope she'll still be at work."

"Do you have your phone?"

"Yes."

"Good. Keep it on. I'll keep mine on too. You _will_ call me if there is a problem, understand?"

"Yes mother," I muttered, but I pulled out my phone anyway and turned it on. I showed it to her before shoving it back into my pocket. "Satisfied?"

"No," she said bluntly. "But you won't let me go with you, so I won't even bother asking."

"Good plan," I agreed. "Because the answer would be no."

"I know that," she assured me. "You're going now?"

"No point putting it off."

She sighed, slumping slightly. Then she straightened. "Walk fast. It looks like it might rain."

It did rain, and I was soaked to the skin by the time I got to my house. I stood uncertainly on the doorstep for a moment, water dripping from my hair and my clothes, wondering if I should knock. It felt exceedingly odd knocking at my own door, but I did it anyway. No point in barging in unwanted. This conversation would be hard enough anyway.

Luck was, for once, with me, and it was Dad, not Marge, who opened the door. He blinked in surprise as he saw me. "Adarius! What are you doing here?"

It seemed patently unfair that my own father asked that question, but I shoved the unfairness away. It was, after all, a perfectly legitimate question and, considering the circumstances, an understandable one.

"I need to talk to you. It's about Mom."

He winced slightly. "Come in. It's too windy to hold the door open like this."

I came in, ignoring the water pooling on the floor. Marge would have a fit when she came home, but I was past caring what she thought. Dad led me into the kitchen, where I could drip without injuring the floor, and nodded for me to sit. I did.

"So what's happening with your mother?"

I summed up the situation in as few words as possible, but they were still too many. His face closed as I spoke, and, when he answered, his words contained no little poison.

"What does she expect me to do about it?"

I grimaced. My parents didn't have a particularly happy divorce, and it spoke volumes about their feelings for each other that she'd asked _me_ for the documents. Any rational parent would have asked a capable adult, not a teenager. Of course, Mom could never be described as rational, but even so… I don't think my parents have exchanged a civil word to each other in ten years. They've been divorced for three years already, and that was how long it took to settle all the court things and custody battles. After they signed the documents, I don't believe they'd ever even been in the same room together for more than two minutes at a time.

"Well, where are the medical documents, for starters?"

"In the drawer, with all the other papers. But I don't know why she would expect me to have hers."

"You don't. I do."

He blinked, then frowned. "What?"

"She sent them to me last summer after coming out of the hospital. I just want mine."

"You're going to see her, then?"

I sighed, closing my eyes momentarily. "I have to."

He didn't answer for a long moment, and I almost thought he would forbid me to go. Not that it would stop me, but it would certainly make my life even harder than it already was. Finally, he sighed. "I suppose I can't stop you. I'll go get your papers."

I grinned. "Thanks Dad."

He left, presumably to get my medical documents, and I walked slowly to my room. Once inside, I closed the door, looking around at what had been my room until last week. I supposed it wasn't mine anymore, though it was hard to think of it as anything else.

Finally, I reached into my desk and opened one of the drawers. Sure enough, Mom's medical documents came readily to my hand. I closed the drawer and then, at the last minute, locked my desk. I'd been too distraught to do it last time, but there were things in there I _really_ didn't want Marge to find. Come to think of it, I wouldn't be particularly pleased if Dad found them either. It's not that I hide anything illegal or anything – I don't do drugs, and Kiki keeps hers out of my house – but things like my journal or my sketchpad are best kept to myself. I doubt my father would be impressed by temper tantrums, nor overly pleased by past suicidal crisis's, either mine or my friends'.

My luck held until I'd almost left the house. I'd pretty much stopped dripping by then, and I was crossing the living room to leave when the door burst open. I froze, Mom's and my papers clutched in my hand ready shove into my pocket, my jacket half on. Marge too stopped, and her eyes narrowed into slits of brutal hatred.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, taking a step forward. Unconsciously, I stepped back.

"I came to get some things."

"You weren't to set foot in my house ever again," she snarled, advancing more.

I'm still not sure what part of that caused me to snap, though it was probably her saying that it was her house. It wasn't. It was Dad's house, and it was mine, and it had once been Mom's, but it had never been Marge's. She was a visitor, nothing more.

"Why don't you just leave me alone?" I demanded, halting my retreat mid-step. "I know you hate me and you know you hate me, so why don't you just fucking give up already? It's my house and I'll live in it however long I damn well want to!"

Her face was rapidly turning a shade of red as yet unfound in nature, but I ignored the danger signs, as well as the voice in my head, which was yelling words as obscene as the ones I'd thrown at Marge, instructing me to get the hell out of there. I didn't care.

"You know why you hate me? You hate me because you're jealous. You're jealous of me because I'm prettier than you are and because Dad loves me more than he loves you and you know it. You know it and that scares you and you take your anger out on me. You think I don't see through you? You think I don't know how much I scare you because I'm prettier than you are and you feel threatened by that? Well, you should feel threatened. I would love to knock you from your gilded palace and stamp on you until you can't fucking feel anything but pain."

I stopped, only then aware of the dead silence in the room. Only my breathing, heavy from adrenaline, or effort, or both, penetrated the calm. Her face was still fire-colored, her eyes still blazing, her hands clenched at her sides, groceries forgotten. And then she moved, and everything snapped back to reality.

"You _brat_!" she screamed, lashing out. I realized that she'd snapped too. She was going to do it. She was actually going to do it. She was going to hit me.

She hit me. There was an incredible amount of force behind it, presumably fueled by her utter loathing of me and everything to do with me. She came at me again and again and again, losing all vestiges of her always tenuous control. As my vision began to swim, I couldn't help thinking that I didn't regret any of it. Then she hit me one last time and everything went white.

"Rathburn, will you _wake up_?!"

The nameless voice penetrated my consciousness – or maybe my _un_consciousness, since I appeared to asleep – nagging at my mind, unwilling to be quenched. I winced. I wanted the voice to go away. It was dragging me up, up out of the comforting whiteness in which I existed. Dimly, I recalled that I hadn't always existed in this whiteness, but the memories of the time before were fuzzy, as though they'd been taken long ago and were blurred with age and distance. I got the impression that they hadn't been particularly fun memories, and that made me all the more eager not to leave the whiteness.

"He should have been awake hours ago! What's wrong?"

Another voice, equally nameless, yet clearly worried. I felt a slight pang as I heard that one, and I remembered that I didn't want that person to be worried. Maybe I would think about leaving, difficult as it was to contemplate.

"She hit him pretty hard. Maybe…"

Yet a third, this one male. The other two had been sexless, and the identification of gender told me that I was definitely on my way towards wakefulness, whether I wanted to be or not.

"No!" The second voice again. A girl, I decided. "No, he _will_ wake up! Don't _say_ things like that, Dom!"

Dom. I knew that name. The memories were coming back, coming faster and faster the closer I got to complete consciousness. Dom was my best friend. He was my age. I'd known him forever. He was in love with… with who? The name escaped me suddenly.

"I think he's coming to!"

Another male voice, and the name I'd been searching for sprang to my mind and my lips. "Eric."

"Rathburn!" That was Minnie, the second voice. Her tone had changed from worried to overjoyed and, as my vision adjusted, I saw that she was sitting right next to me, her chair pulled up as close as it could go without being physically on the bed. "You're awake!"

"Apparently." My voice sounded odd to my own ears, like I hadn't used it in a while. "What happened."

Minnie frowned. "Don't you remember? Marge hit you."

"Your Dad's divorcing her, by the way," Dom added, coming into view above me. "About time, I think."

"My Mom? Did she…?" I stopped as I saw Minnie's face. "Is she okay?"

"She didn't make it." Kiki, my first voice. Of course it would be her. Only Kiki had the ability to say something like that is that tone of voice, completely devoid of any pity or other emotions. Someone who didn't know her as well as I do might think she didn't care. I knew she was just pretending.

"How?"

"Overdose. They said it was accidental."

I nodded, knowing as well as they did that it hadn't been. My mom hadn't been the type to accidentally do something like that.

"How long was I out?"

"A day and a half," Minnie told me. "They were just about to try and force you to wake up."

I winced. "How long have you been here?" She looked like she hadn't slept for the entire time, and, knowing Minnie, she hadn't.

"She wouldn't leave," Dom announced, giving truth to my suspicions. "Not even when they tried to make her."

I turned my head to scowl at my friend. "Sleep," I ordered her. "I'm awake and I'm alive. You don't need to end up hospitalizing yourself too. We all have more than enough to deal with already."

"But…"

"No buts," I said firmly. "Sleep."

She subsided, and I suspected she was far more tired than she let on. Minnie _never_ gave in that easily.

The nurse came in then to usher them all out, and they promised to visit me again soon. I waved goodbye, secretly relived. I needed time to sort my feelings out, and that works better when you're alone. Of course, I wasn't sure I _wanted_ to sort my feelings out, but I knew both Minnie and Dom would be watching me like hawks when they came back, and I needed to be able to present them with clear, rational arguments as to why they should just leave me alone and let me cope. I wasn't having very much success with that part.

They came again, as I'd known they would, and, since they didn't stay and pester me, I imagined my mask was good enough. Or, if it wasn't, they didn't say anything about it. Maybe they had – finally – learned how not to pry.

I was let out of the hospital two days later, after being pronounced fine except for some bruises. Dad arrived to usher me back to our house, after informing me that he was divorcing Marge and that I never needed to listen to her again. I didn't tell him that I wouldn't have anyway. Her reign of terror over me was finished, and I'd decided that I'd never take shit from her, or anyone, again. I could only hope that people understood that.

I remained in a fairly numb state for much of the next week, despite the worried prodding of my friends and, later, my schoolmates, who were apparently under the impression that I'd fallen down some stairs. I guess being beat up by your stepmother isn't really something you want to advertize. Or, at least, not something _I_ want to advertize, and the school administration knew that. I was called into the councilor's office the day after I returned to school, and asked if there was anything I wanted to talk about, but I declined, informing them that my dad was divorcing Marge and that it was all good. Well, maybe not in so many words, but I managed to convey the sentiment. They didn't call me back.

Gradually, I started talking to people again, mostly to avoid a repeat of the above summons, and I surprised myself by actually growing to like several people I'd never given a second thought to. In my efforts to appear "normal" in front of Minnie and Kiki, I found myself talking to other people, sometimes boys, mostly girls, who expressed sympathy and offered their friendship. I'd never realized before how many nice people there were in the school, and I saw with chagrin that our group had always been an incredibly exclusive one. Not that it was really all our fault. There was no denying that few people had approached us and asked to be included, Joe being a noteworthy exception. Even so, we could have made an effort.

Much to my delight, Adele seemed to have lost her frosty attitude, and we began talking in the halls or the library during passing periods and after school. I discovered that we actually had a lot in common with each other, and, the more we talked, the more I fell for her. To her credit, she didn't seem either to notice or to mock me for it, though I supposed Eric had told her the entire story. I'd known he would even as I told him, even if it was only subconsciously.

Even this was not enough to satisfy Dom, though, and, in an effort to stop him from barging in and demanding I talk to him, I introduced him to Eric. The second I saw them together, I knew that Dom wouldn't be prying into my life any time soon. I insisted that I was _not_ jealous as I saw them talk together, and I almost believed it. Apparently my skills of self-deception were growing.

She came over to me the next day, a slight smile on her face. "Thank you."

"What for?"

She sighed. "You know! For introducing my brother to your friend. Though you really didn't do me any favors, since that's all he's going to be able to talk about for a while."

I laughed. "Yeah. Dom too."

She nodded. "I suppose so." She hesitated, and my breath caught very slightly. "Adarius?"

"Yes?"

"Can I talk to you?"

"We are talking, aren't we?"

She scowled. "That's not what I meant," she snapped. "I _meant_ can we talk in private?"

With great difficulty, I stopped myself from treating her to a highly cynical comment, and shrugged. "Sure. Where do you want to go?"

She frowned, biting her lip. Only then did I realize how nervous she was, and I could have kicked myself for not taking her seriously sooner. What kind of person _was_ I?

"We can go out behind the school," I suggested. "No one'll be there at this hour."

She frowned. "Northside? Isn't that where all the smokers and druggies go?"

I shrugged. "Depends on the time of day." I glanced at my watch. 2:30. "They should be gone by now. They don't tend to hang around when they can help it."

She shot me a sharp glance. "And how do _you_ know so much about this, may I ask?"

I grinned. "You haven't met Kiki, have you?"

"No."

"Then you have no idea. Remind me to introduce you to her some day. She's the one with blue hair."

"Oh, her. You're friends with _her_?"

I frowned, instantly on the defensive. "Kiki's cool. She might not make the same decisions you would, but she's a good friend."

"If you say so," she muttered skeptically. "Let's go."

We left the main hall, slipping around back. She eyed the long grass with distaste, but waded through it without comment. Only when we'd made it around to Northside did she yank the clinging tendrils off her jeans. "Have these people never heard of a lawnmower?"

I snorted. "Oh, sure. Just not back here. No one cares about back here."

"What about people who come here on a regular basis?"

"They don't care either. Besides, part of the appeal is the inaccessibility."

"Oh."

We sat it silence for a while, then I looked at her. "You, um, wanted to say something?"

She nodded, but still said nothing. The silence grew more and more awkward until I would have killed for something, anything, to distract me. With every second, I became more and more aware that she was fidgeting with her rings, that her jeans flared perfectly around her trim ankles, that her long blond hair just barely touched my shoulder… soon I was going to crack and do something I would regret.

Finally, just as I was about to stand up just to relieve tension, she turned to look at me.

"Eric told me… I mean, I made him tell…"

I nodded, taking pity on her. "I know."

"You do?"

"Well, I assumed he had."

"Is it… I mean, did you mean it?"

"What, that I like you? Yes."

She seemed to sag slightly, as though a great weight had been removed from her chest. "Oh. Good."

"Why?"

"Because…" She paused, swallowed, took a deep breath, and looked me squarely in the eye. "Because I like you too."

My own breath caught in my throat and for a moment I could do nothing but stare at her. Vaguely, a part of my brain informed me that I should be doing more to mark this historic event. It supplied swoons, kisses, declarations of unending passion… I ignored it all. This was real life, not a fairy tale. I was in High School, not a land far, far away, and that wasn't how things worked in High School.

Instead, I took her hand. It felt warm in mine, and completely natural. I'd imagined the gesture so many times that there was no real climax in actually carrying it out, just a deep sense of satisfaction, as though a piece of me were finally where it belonged.

"Do you want to go to dinner tomorrow night? My treat."

She nodded, clearly unable to trust her voice. We stayed like that for another long moment. Finally, she sighed. "I have to go. I'm supposed to be home by 3:30."

I nodded, and reluctantly let go of her hand. We stood and battled our way back across the sea of razor-sharp vegetation that defended Northside. Just before we got back to the main part of the school, she paused, then leaned over and kissed me, gently and briefly, hardly touching me at all, yet leaving me with a sense of all-consuming peace that had no comparison. Then she darted away, leaving me to follow at my own pace, marveling at the world and at my own fortune.

* * *

So there's my story. Adele and I went out for the rest of high school and college, and decided that we wanted no one else. I asked her to marry me when we were Juniors in college, and she accepted, moving in with me at long last. Later the next year, she bore me our first child, a boy we named Devlon, after one of her friends in New York.

Dom and Eric stayed together for the rest of Junior year, then drifted apart. Eric eventually settled down with a nice guy he met in Med School, and Dom continued to float from guy to guy, never finding the perfect one until he met Clarence. The two of them have been inseparable ever since.

My Dad never remarried, living his life in a small condo outside Denver, apparently perfectly content.

Minnie married a guy from Florida and became a successful lawyer, making far more money than I could ever hope to make. We see each other often, and she tells me that she's jealous of my happy ending. I tell her that she's insane.

Joe found herself a best friend and part time lover and is still in college, studying Engineering. She too will make one hell of a lot of money some day.

Kiki finally renounced her wicked ways when she graduated, swearing off both drugs and men, living perfectly happily by herself in New York, working as a part time actress and drug councilor.

Bubble finally hooked herself a nice guy, who was neither a football player nor gay and stayed in Denver, majoring in fashion design and gossip... though that last wasn't really part of the curriculum.

On the whole, I think we all found our own happily ever after, don't you?

The End.

* * *

_Author's note: okay, so I know the ending's cheesy. It's supposed to be. This _is_ a fairy tale, after all. Let me know what you thought. Did you love it? Did you hate it? I'm tough, I can take it if you did. But I'd like to know. I'm thinking of turning this into a novel, but I probably won't post it on here. I'll post a link on my profile to it on if I write it. Thanks to everyone who read it and reviewed, and even to those who read it and didn't review. (Hint, there are a lot of you!) Review this time! Thanks.  
--kyra_


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